Compelled
by Headbanger Rockstar
Summary: "I don't look any different. I do all of those things that normal, everyday people do. I am just like every random Joe who walks down the street. Until someone gives me a direct order. Then all bets are off." A look into what makes Tony the Tony we all know and love. AU. Slash Tony/Gibbs pairing. Thanks for reading!
1. Road To The Top

_Thanks to my wonderful beta Gotgoats for your help with this story. _

_Author's Note: To my knowledge, this is a Made-Up Genetic Disorder hehe_

**Compelled  
****Chapter One: The Road to the Top  
****by Headbanger_Rockstar**

I can remember when I was a kid…it was pretty rare for me to get into trouble. Oh sure I'd find myself in situations that I shouldn't go into, but usually the situation only ever happened once. After that it didn't happen again. I was a smart boy, the neighbors would say. Smart enough to learn from my own mistakes. Well. That's what my old man called it. For years I wasn't sure what to make of it. Once I got older, I did some reading, some researching, some general question asking, and I learned something.

I'm not like everybody else.

Oh I don't look any different. I walk, talk, eat, laugh, go to the movies, have great sex (I am a tiger in bed!)—all of those things that normal, everyday people do. I am just like every random Joe who walks down the street.

Until someone gives me a direct order. Then all bets are off.

I was born with a genetic abnormality. It's quite a conundrum among experts, and researchers are still trying to uncover the exact reason that my body responds the way it does to orders. They throw around words like "impressionable" and "mind control" and "brainwashed" and "easily influenced." Still doesn't explain the reaction though. Pretty much if someone tells me to jump my instinctive reaction is to ask how high, where to, and when they'd like me to get started. I can't help myself. It's not an addiction. It's not a fixation. It's merely…as natural as breathing. It's reflexive. It's part of me—part of what makes me who I am. I'm simply compelled.

So now you're probably wondering how the heck it is I managed to get a career in law enforcement—namely as the Senior Field Agent on the MCRT under the best agent in all of NCIS with a condition like that. To tell that story, I have to start back a long, long time ago, in a land far, far away. No just kidding—it's not that long or far. Let's rewind about thirty years and head about five and a half hours north…

_**About Thirty Years Ago, Five and a Half Hours North**_

_Eight year old Tony DiNozzo stood at the edge of his mother's grave, his chin quivering pitifully, his eyes bright with unshed tears. He couldn't cry. His father had told him early on that DiNozzos don't cry—and that was the end of Tony's tears. Even now, when he was staring at the freshly packed dirt. "Oh Momma I miss you," Tony whispered. He wore his little sailor suit, the one his mother liked so well, and his shoes were shined to perfection. She'd taught him well. 'My little sailor,' she'd say. 'Momma's gonna teach you how to always look your best. That way, you can always impress those around you with your appearance, even if you can't impress them with your brain.' She'd taught him how to use the iron, how to make the creases straight, how to fold clothes so they wouldn't wrinkle, taught him how to trim loose threads and polish shoes. He'd always look his best, no matter what._

_She'd made sure of it, of course, when she told him he must always take care of his appearance. As a result, Tony would spend hours each day on his clothes, caring for them carefully, preparing them meticulously. He was unable to avoid it._

_Momma was great because her orders were always so gentle, and usually had some sort of lesson that went with them. Help people in need. Be nice to everyone you meet. Always look your best. Characteristics that every good mother strives to impress upon their children. For Angelina DiNozzo, she merely needed to say the words and poof! just like that Tony was doing exactly as he should. If he came inside dirty after an afternoon of climbing trees or frolicking in the mud, no matter. It only ever happened once. _

_But then…oh then, the unthinkable happened. Then Momma got sick. Cancer. She didn't live very long after she got sick, and then she was dead. With her dying breath, she looked at her beloved son, her impressionable, easily influenced, compellable little boy, and she spoke one final order to him. 'Always…always be a good boy Tony. Always follow your heart,' she'd whispered. And then she'd died. And Tony was alone. And he was a very. good. boy._

xxx

Now before we go any farther, I gotta tell ya about my old man. My dad..."_Father,"_ as he likes to be called, is not a very nice person. He's a businessman…only not. He's more like a con man. He makes politicians look honest. Anyway, so after Mom died, I was left alone with Father. I can't say that either of us were thrilled with the arrangement, but it's what we had, so it's what we did. I like to call him Dad instead of Father for two reasons. First, because it really, REALLY pisses him off, which is one good way for me to get my kicks in life. And Second, because it reminds me of how I got to where I am today.

Let me explain. I was twelve. My dad was actually at home one day when I got home from school one day and he was in his office. I figured that he was in a meeting because I saw a car in the driveway that I didn't recognize. As I passed by his office on my way to the kitchen to get a snack, I could hear Dad talking to whoever was there. He was talking loud—loud enough so that I could hear him in the hall. I didn't mean to eavesdrop—I really didn't! But…I kind of…couldn't help myself. I heard my dad making a business deal. And I didn't know a lot about business at the time, but I could tell that my dad was up to no good. He even said something about how whoever it was wouldn't even know what hit 'em! So I didn't like the sound of that. Not one bit.

After that…well I didn't trust my dad so much. As I got older and went on through high school our relationship only got worse. Please understand—it was never good to start with. But as I got older…other issues arose. While all the other boys started noticing girls…I…didn't…so much. I was more…noticing the boys who were noticing the girls. Well my dad figured that out quite by accident on my part. How was I supposed to know that he was planning to take the boat out THAT day? I figured the boathouse would be deserted in January—it is COLD then! Tyler was forbidden from ever coming to the house again, but that was probably for the best. Dad and I began to argue—something that he wasn't accustomed to—and quickly put the lid on by telling me that I "would not raise my voice to him ever again!"

That led me to develop my deep and scary I'm-super-pissed-off voice.

So everything was great living in Pseudo-Hell until my Senior Year of high school. My dad came to me one day and he told me that he'd gotten my application to Harvard Business School and it was filled out and all I needed to do was sign it. I looked at it, and thought about the application to Ohio State that I had gotten in the mail the other day. I'd been offered a scholarship to play football there. I was so excited. My dad held out the application…and I didn't take it. I looked at him, took a deep breath, knowing this would be the hardest thing I've ever had to do. If he told me to sign that application I had to somehow manage to not do it.

"No," I said evenly.

My father's gaze darkened and he frowned. He held out the application and a pen. _Here it comes._ "You will sign this paper," my father all but growled at me.

And then I felt it. That compulsion to do what I was told. That reflexive urge to follow the order, simply because my ears heard it. I balled my hands into fists and I clenched my teeth. "No," I said.

Dad blinked—who can blame him? I was surprised too!—and then tried again. "SIGN IT!" he roared.

I took a step backwards and thrust my clenched fists into my pockets. "I won't do it," I snapped. "I don't want to go to school there! I want to go to Ohio State!"

"A state school?" my dad sputtered. "Are you fucking joking? SIGN THIS GODDAMN FORM!"

"No! No I won't!" And before my body could betray me, I turned around and ran from the house. I entered the boat house and locked myself inside. I felt suddenly exhilarated, despite the fear and anxiety of my decision. I hadn't ever actively disobeyed a direct order before. And yet…I seemed mostly ok. I looked myself over carefully to make sure I wasn't breaking out in spots or anything like that. The maddening urge to go do as I was told was strong, and I was glad I had locked the door.

It was dark when the knock came. I told myself I was going to stay in the boat house until the urge to obey passed. I moved warily to the door, wondering who it was. I knew if it was my father I'd not be able to resist him again. The uncomfortable sensation that accompanied resistance almost caused me physical pain the first time. I peeked out the window and breathed a sigh of relief when I saw Greta at the door carrying a medium sized box. Greta was my family's cook and housekeeper. I loved the woman dearly—had since I was born. She was second only to my mother. I quickly unlocked the door and let her inside.

"Anthony," she said quietly, her eyes filled with concern. "Are you alright?"

"I'm ok," I mumbled softly, sinking down into one of the chairs at the table.

Greta began fixing me a plate. The box she had carried down was filled with wonderful dishes of food and I suddenly realized I was starving. She sat the plate before me and I smiled gratefully up at her. "Eat," she said simply. And I did. We both knew she ordered me on purpose, and we both chose not to comment on it.

It was several days before I returned to the house. My dad had left on a business trip that morning. The application was on the table in the foyer though, glaring up at me every time I passed by it. Each time I passed it, I felt a little wave of discomfort, and after two days of this I'd had enough. It wasn't fair, dammit. So I did the unthinkable. I picked up the application to Harvard Business School and I signed it. I sighed in relief as I felt relaxation wash over me. I relished in it only for a moment, and then I made a decision. I crept into my father's office and I shredded the application. I'd signed it as he'd ordered me to, but he wasn't going to mail it off. And he'd never said I couldn't destroy it. I returned to my room and filled out the application to Ohio State University and mailed it off that very afternoon.

xxx

I was accepted to Ohio State University, much to my delight. And to my surprise, I was offered a Football Scholarship to attend OSU and play on their team. I told my father that I was going to go to Ohio for college and he glared at me and snarled that he wasn't going to pay my way. He wouldn't waste his money on a crappy school like that. I needn't even bother asking for money. So I told him I understood and left. I packed my belongings and moved to Ohio. About three days after I arrived there, my father called me. He wanted to know where I was and what the hell I was doing. I explained to him that I was in Ohio going to school. He asked me how I was paying for it, so I explained that to him as well. And ya know? I'll never forget the last thing he said to me that day.

"_No son of mine is going to some pitiful little state school. You are done Anthony. You are dead to me. You will do nothing but wind up in the gutter with the decisions you've made."_

I'm going to go out on a limb here and wager that being in the gutter would be better than being a controlled, crooked businessman like my father.

I knew I needed to work exceptionally diligently to do well at this school—which oddly enough turned out to offer a very thorough education. I breezed through my first and second years of college, all the time wondering what the hell I was going to major in. I knew I was slotted to be the opening quarterback for the football team for the next couple of years, with a chance at going Pro after graduation. I decided to major in Physical Education, just on the off chance that I needed a backup plan.

Turns out I should have made a backup plan for my backup plan.

My senior year at OSU was great—life was good, I was Mr. Popular on campus, I was living life large in the Fraternity, was the Star Quarterback on the OSU Football team. Everything was perfect. There were two minutes left in the final quarter of the final game—my shining moment—there were scouts from prominent Pro-Football teams in the bleachers. Representatives from the New York Giants, the New Orleans Saints, the San Diego Chargers and the Denver Broncos were all present at the game, interested in signing me onto their football team. My dreams were on the brink of coming true! It was my finest moment.

I could hear the roar of the crowds, could hear the announcer's excited voice. _"OSU is in control of the ball! DiNozzo is going to—no! He's going—what is he up to? What's he gonna do! DiNozzo! He's going for a quarter back sneak! He's moving in, he's dancing, look at his feet! He's moving in for a lateral pass—DiNozzo! He's going to pass the ball! He's going to pass the ball off to—"_

The next thing I remembered was the pain. I was dying. I couldn't make sense of the sounds—there were tons of sounds!—and the pain. The pain was excruciating. Oh God my leg hurt—I've never hurt that badly in my life! There were people leaning over me and someone took my helmet off. I don't remember a lot about the next little bit. I know I was screaming. I know someone did something to my leg that made it hurt like, a million times worse. I think I passed out for a moment, but I can't be sure. One minute I was on the field, the next I was on a stretcher and they were throwing me into the back of an ambulance.

I grabbed the arm of the nearest person—one of the EMTs—and I can clearly remember in that sea of hell begging them, begging anyone who would listen, "Please…please don' callmydad…"

In truth, there was no way for them to call my dad—I hadn't listed him as an emergency contact on any of my paperwork at OSU. Instead, they called Greta. It took her a couple of days to get to Columbus. I was laid up in the hospital, waiting for the much needed knee surgery that would repair everything Brad Pitt—the college football star, not the actor—had torn when he tackled me. I'd watched and re-watched the footage. I couldn't stand it. My whole life—everything I wanted—everything I worked for…it was gone. I wanted to cry, but DiNozzo's don't cry (thanks for that order, Dad—really appreciate that one) and so I did what DiNozzos do best. I internalized.

Greta tried to get me to let loose, tell her how I was feeling, tell her the thoughts that were running rampant through my head. She could tell I was hurting—more than just physically. She stayed with me after I had knee surgery, cooked for me and cleaned up so that my crutches-bound self wouldn't trip and kill myself on a dirty sock or something. I was bitter, mad as hell really, pissed that the only thing—THE ONLY THING!—I had ever wanted IN MY LIFE (aside from a red Ferrari and my mother to not have died) was to be a Pro-Football Player.

The universe sure had a wicked sense of humor.

Thankfully (or not) it was just before Christmas vacation. That gave me almost a month at home in my apartment to just lay around and feel sorry for myself. Greta stayed for a while, until I was steadier on my feet, and before she left, she looked at me with that very serious face she gets whenever she wants to tell me something important. And she walked over to where I was laying on the couch, and she clicked off the tv. She grabbed my face in her hands and she said, "You are stronger than this Anthony. You must not let this beat you. Now is the time, love, now is the time for you to use your backup plan."

Now, if you remember, I told you that I should have made a backup plan for my backup plan? I still agree with that statement. I called up my advisor, who was all tearful and sympathetic over my horrible awful situation (and it was horrible awful thank you very much). I asked her if she had any idea what classes I could take toward my major in the spring semester that would keep me on time for graduation, and she made some confused, despairing sounds, and told me she'd have to call up the coaches and see what they could do.

Long story short? I was a Phys Ed major with a broken leg and a shredded knee. There was nothing they could do for me.

So I changed my major. Yes, I know, at the beginning of my last semester of college, why on earth would someone change their major? And, because I was not able to play any sports (for the first time in my life) I decided I would make up the time with extra courses. So I started a new major. A major in Criminal Justice. I did two semesters' work in one semester, did my physical therapy like an addict, all in hopes that I could be back on my feet (both of them) as soon as possible. But along the way I learned that I really liked this new way of learning. The psychology classes, the ethics classes, the methodology classes—I ate it up! I loved it! It was exhilarating and exciting—and I realized that with THIS degree I could make a difference. Really, truly, make a difference. By the summer I was back on my feet and able to pick up the last two classes I needed to finish my Phys Ed degree (yes I was only two classes shy of graduating) and I picked up some courses toward my new major as well. I enrolled in the fall semester, determined to finish by Christmas. I doubled up my work again, and finished, proudly, _Magna cum Laude_ in both of my majors, at the school's December graduation, one year to the day after my leg was broken.

Greta came to my graduation, but my father refused to come, even though I invited him. With my permission, Greta told him about my leg getting broken and how I was having to reevaluate things and sketch a new plan. My father wasn't impressed. "If he would have gone to Harvard Business School like I told him to none of this would have happened," is what Greta relayed to me on the phone. I'm sure the language was much more colorful and the expletives were much more…expletive.

Oh well. I digress. But the point is, I defied my father, I struck out on my own, I broke my leg and got back up, and now I, Anthony DiNozzo, was a college graduate.

And I wanted to be a Police Officer when I grew up.

TBC…


	2. Two Cities

**Warning: The relationship towards the end of the chapter may be disturbing to some readers.**_  
_

_Thanks to my beta for all your help! Gotgoats, you are amazingly awesome!_

**Compelled  
****Chapter 2: Two Cities**

I quickly learned that just because you wanted to be something, didn't always mean that it just magically happened the minute someone graduates from college. After I graduated from OSU, I spent the next six months scouting around, mailing out job applications, begging for someone, anyone to hire me. I didn't care where it was, or what kind of police officer position it was. Didn't matter. I just couldn't stand the idea of having to go back home to Long Island—back home to my Old Man—and admit defeat. _ DiNozzos don't fail._ That's the "supportive message" I would get from my father. That was assuming of course, that he'd even let me onto the property. If he was not pleased when I refused to go to Harvard Business School, he was absolutely outraged at what my backup plan was when I broke my leg—correction, when I had my leg broken for me. Being a police officer was the lowest, dirtiest, most menial job that my father could fathom. I think it ranked somewhere below pool boy and poop scooper. Needless to say, I could not have picked a worse profession, and my father would be loathe to help me. Instead, he would tell me in that very condescending tone of his, "you've gotten what you deserve now Anthony. Now you have to live with the consequences."

So that is exactly what I was doing. Living with the consequences. Consequences of disobeying my father by not going to Harvard, consequences of not checking my blindside on the football field, consequences of not keeping up with my social life enough during those last few semesters of college. I was on my own. I was 23 years old, and I was alone.

I worked in a diner as a short order cook, making as much money as possible, working as many shifts as they would let me work in a week, and when I wasn't working there, I was bartending at a little joint down on the block at night. When I got off work I went for a run every night and came home and worked out. Push-ups, sit ups, weight curls, bending, stretching, doing everything I could to stay in shape. I taught myself to not need a lot of sleep, to never drink on the job, and to always, always, be nice and polite to every person I met. I was doing as my mother told me to—being a very good boy, following my heart, and always being nice and helpful to everyone I met. I ate crappy food, stayed up late, got up early, filled out job applications in between burger orders at the diner and scanned newspapers in between shooter orders at the bar. I didn't date, didn't look, didn't have many friends, didn't socialize with the ones I did have, and saved money like a miser. I was doing everything I could to escape this life I was living. I was determined that one day I would be a police officer—I would uphold the law, I would work to protect society from people like my father, and I would be an honorable man. For now, what I needed was patience.

It took six months to hear back from one of the applications I'd filled out. Philadelphia Police Department was actively seeking recruits, and they'd gotten my application and I seemed like exactly the sort of recruit they were looking for. I happily called them up, scheduled the interview for two week's time (to give myself time to ask off of work from two jobs for three days each), and within the next two weeks did every bit of digging and learning about Philadelphia and the police department that I could. I was starving for information. I would be the perfect recruit. I would make myself proud.

The interview went off without a hitch. They loved me and I loved them. It was a glorious thing. I returned to Ohio, where I worked my two week notice at both of my jobs, gently broke my lease with my landlord (who was also my boss at the diner), and packed up everything I had. I'd been given a car, a Corvette to be exact, by my father's staff for my graduation present. There were 40 people on my father's staff and they'd each saved up money for years (since I had started college) in order to pool their funds and buy me a car. I was floored by the gift and loved and waxed on it as though it were living and breathing. I babied the car and drove it so carefully that most people didn't recognize me in traffic. Now I packed all of my belongings into my car (and it was sad to me that all of my belongings FIT into my car) and I struck out for Philadelphia. The officers there helped me to find a place to rent, a quiet and furnished studio apartment. It would fit my needs perfectly. I moved in on Saturday and on Monday showed up for their new recruit training. The next two weeks were some of the hardest of my life, reminiscent of physical therapy after my broken leg, coupled with the double load of school classes. I worked and slaved my body and my mind, bending it to my will, forcing myself to learn the rules, the laws of Pennsylvania, everything I needed to know. I would be the perfect officer. I was determined. The only glitch came, when the instructor, two weeks before the final training exam, said to the class, "You will not eat, sleep, bang your girlfriends, go drinking, go do ANYTHING, until you have passed this test. Between now and the final exam there is only you and the study materials."

Damn him, I thought to myself. I had taught myself not to need a great deal of sleep, but this would be really pushing the limits. There were PT assessments every day, firing range assessments every day, and a constant barrage of questions, designed to keep our brains sharp, even in times of distraction (because really who could recite all of the traffic laws from memory while still shooting the bulls eye on a moving target every single time? I would meet the man who could eventually, but not until later in this story.) I didn't eat; though I did drink protein shakes religiously (I had to do something to keep from keeling over!) Three days before the final though, I must have been showing signs of wear and tear, because the instructor pulled me aside after class.

"You ok DiNozzo?" he asked.

"Yessir," I replied. "Never better sir."

The instructor took a step closer. "I'm not sure I believe you," he said softly. "You look like shit. Now try again, and this time tell me the truth. Are you alright?"

"I'm exhausted sir," I replied sheepishly, unable to do anything but what he asked.

"Why are you exhausted? I told you not to be out partying and goofing off right now! It's essential that you maintain your focus."

"Oh I have sir," I replied earnestly. "I've done exactly what you said. I haven't slept, eaten, banged anybody, gone drinking, or anything else for the last week and a half. I've only studied and come to class. Oh and I had some protein shakes along the way so I didn't keel over on ya."

The instructor though, was not impressed. "Are you being a wiseass kid? 'Cause I'll tell ya right now, that shit's not cute and it won't fly with me."

I didn't know what to say. I felt like I'd done everything he asked—I'd done it to a T—I couldn't help myself! I looked at him for a long minute, my mouth hanging open awkwardly, and finally I managed to mumble something to the effect of not being a wiseass, merely following orders. The instructor grabbed me by the shoulders and he gave me a good, hard shake.

"How the hell do you figure that not sleeping and not eating is going to be conducive to you doing well on this exam?"

I shrugged. I had no idea. "I was only doing what you told us to do. I thought I was doing the right thing," I said lamely. God I felt like such a loser.

"What would have given you the idea that I meant for you to take that literally?" he wanted to know.

I looked him in the eye and took a deep breath. "You told me to do it sir. I thought you meant it as an order."

"I only meant for you all to not lose your focus at this critical juncture," the man said, some sympathy creeping into his tone. "I didn't think anyone would misunderstand and take it literally."

I sighed, ashamed of myself.

"Tell ya what," he continued. "Go home and get ya some rest. I want you to get a good night's sleep and eat a good dinner and a good breakfast. Then I want to see you back here tomorrow and after class we're going to talk again. Ok?"

"Yessir," I said, nodding my head. "I understand. Thank you sir." I hurried out of the room and raced home, eager to get to eat real food for the first time in days and ashamed of myself for misunderstanding in the first place. Only I didn't misunderstand. I understood perfectly—even the underlying message of what he was saying. But even when using a metaphor, if someone words it as a direct order…I'm bound to it. If someone told me to go jump off a bridge…well…I try not to get into those situations. I had only ever once disobeyed an order, and that was my father's order to sign the application to Harvard. And in the end, I couldn't resist forever, only for a short time before I gave up.

I passed the final with flying colors, and was hired as a full time rookie cop. I was partnered with an older man named Mick, and the two of us were beat cops working the night shift for the first year and a half that I worked at Philly. I quickly discovered that I was pretty good at undercover work. Eighteen months after I was hired, I was approached by one of the Sergeants from Vice and asked if I was interested in helping with an undercover drug operation. Of course I was interested! But there was something about the sergeant that didn't sit well with me and I was left with an uneasy feeling over the whole thing. I worked with the lab to develop my undercover persona, and the night before I was set to go under, was leaving the office and overheard Sergeant Magruder talking to one of the other Vice cops…

"I tell ya—I've already figured out who's guilty, so it's not gonna take much work for us to change the evidence so much. And having DiNozzo going in…well that's like having a puppet. Have you heard about him getting orders? He's one of those guys who has to do everything he's told. So I'm thinking we'll just sit him down pretty as you please, and we'll tell him what he heard and what he didn't hear and what he sees and what he doesn't see, and we'll just have him as a perfect little backup witness. And that way you and I can keep our skim off the top of the money coming in. Eh? Sound like a plan to you?"

The other cop chuckled and agreed, thinking that it sounded like a fantastic idea. I knew I'd be in big trouble if I let on that I'd overheard the conversation, so I just went home, and spent the evening getting ready for my undercover case.

The next morning I reported in to the office, and I had a feeling things were about to go horribly wrong. Before I even got on the clock, the sergeant I'd overheard the night before was making a beeline towards me. "Mornin' DiNozzo," Magruder called cheerfully.

If I hadn't thought something was going to go wrong before, that sealed it for me. This guy was normally quite a piece of work—and he never called me anything but "Rook"—short for "Rookie" if he ever called me anything at all. So I knew then and there that something was up even without overhearing him the night before.

"Hi," I returned, plastering a smile on my face.

"You ready for your big debut?"

I stared at him, determined to not let this ruin my reputation. "You bet!" I smiled wider.

"Good man. Say, before we get you into costume, what say you and I go for a cuppa joe?"

Here we go, I thought to myself. I remembered my mother's words. _Always…always be a good boy Tony. Always follow your heart._ I squared my shoulders. "I should finish up my report from the last case I am working on," I excused myself politely. I hit the time clock and started to step around him when a vice-like grip attached itself to my arm. "I don't think you understand, DiNozzo," the sergeant suddenly seemed much less friendly. "We're going for a cup of coffee."

Knowing what was coming, and knowing how difficult that would be for me to resist, I allowed myself to be dragged away. Better to save my energy for when I really needed it.

I collected evidence tediously, gathering clues and information while I was undercover. I was undercover for three weeks. Each time I got to go home I carefully typed up all of the new information that I had. I printed a copy of it, sealed it in an envelope, and mailed it to my backup PO Box. That way I'd have it, no one would find it, and I could better resist the urge to follow the orders I'd been given—the orders to destroy any evidence that was incriminating to the Philly officers, and to alter any reports I had to make to carefully edit them out of it. The sergeant's exact words were: "You know all of us cops are clean. We aren't tampering with any evidence. We aren't changing any stories. We aren't getting any money out of this drug ring. That's what you know, and that's what you'll tell everyone."

What I didn't tell him, is that while I was typing up all of the evidence and reports, I did it before I "took off my costume." So while DiNozzo couldn't resist the orders, and would feel compelled to do as he was told, his undercover persona "Tony Dimonetti" felt quite obligated to write everything out as he was seeing it. The evidence was packed away in lockboxes, and I met privately with the chief of police during this time. I explained what was going on and told him how I was handling it. Chief Parsons was pleased with me and told me he'd get me a promotion from all of this. I thanked him and told him I didn't want a promotion. I wanted a transfer. As soon as this case was finished, I would be moving on. I refused to work in a place where so little consideration was given to me, my integrity, or my safety, by my coworkers. Chief said he understood, and asked me where I was moving to. I told him I'd move to wherever he found me a place and I begged him to keep my not-so-secret secret safe. He agreed.

That night I slept soundly for the first time in weeks. The evidence was safe; the drug ring would go down in a blaze of glory. The officers involved would go down with it. On the last day of the operation I reported for work. I gave the chief the key to my lockbox and my PO Box, and he handed me a slip of paper with two things written on it. That afternoon, officers stormed the warehouse, drugs were confiscated, dealers were arrested, officers involved in the drug ring were also arrested—including the good sergeant and his buddy. The yelled and hooted that it would never stick, that there was no evidence to prove it. Chief was on site to help contain the scene—because he had officers involved he wanted them to know he was aware of the situation. He assured them that their charges WOULD stick and that they WOULD be held accountable for their crimes. As they were led away in handcuffs, the sergeant looked at me, with murder in his eyes. "Remember what I told you," he said, and immediately his words washed over me again. I gritted my teeth and held my ground and didn't respond.

After he was driven away in the back of the cruiser, Chief turned to me. "You did well DiNozzo," he said proudly.

"Thank you sir," I said, still struggling to resist the sergeant's words washing over my mind.

"I know what they did to you son," he said gently, putting his hand on my shoulder. I nodded. Keeping his hand on my shoulder, we headed for the cruiser he arrived in. I didn't have a ride back to headquarters. "Get in," he said. My body responded before I realized it, and a feeling of dread rose in me.

Chief pulled out into traffic and soon we were heading back towards midtown. "You are really growing into quite the detective," he said proudly. I thanked him. "I think you'll be an asset for this agency for years to come," he continued.

"I can't do that Sir," I told him softly. The feeling of dread was growing. "I can't work here after this case."

"Sure you can," Chief said reassuringly. "In fact," he looked at me. "You will work here. You can't imagine working anywhere else. It's so nice to have my own little puppet in the police force—someone who will do whatever I tell him to. That's why you didn't notice that I was getting money from the drug ring either!"

I stared at the Chief incredulously. "Don't you remember? I sent Magruder to set you up for this operation. And then I pulled you into my office and we had a long chat about it. Oh but I guess you followed the orders I gave you then too, didn't you? You forgot everything I told you to forget. You're such a good boy DiNozzo. And you're mine. And you're not going anywhere."

I was stunned. I felt like I couldn't move and realized that was probably because he'd told me I wasn't going anywhere. When we got back to the station, Chief turned off the ignition. "Go home boy," he told me with a sharky smile. "You're tired. You should get some rest and start tomorrow off fresh. I'll fix it with the DA so you don't have to testify in this case. In fact, I think you should forget any of it ever happened."

I didn't say a word, merely got out of the car and headed for my corvette. I was exhausted, had been exhausted even before he told me I was. I fell into bed as soon as I got home. The next morning I woke up, packed my things, turned my key into my landlord and paid off my lease, and got in the car. I headed for the interstate, and drove out of town. I didn't know where I was going, and everything in me was pulling me back towards Philadelphia. I knew it wasn't safe there, and I think it was a sense of self-preservation keeping me going. I had to move on. Had to find somewhere safe.

xxx

The place I found was a town in Illinois. The Peoria Police Department was looking for a new beat cop. I didn't care what hours I worked, didn't care what part of town they stuck me in. I had one agenda—to not let anyone get close enough to me to figure out my secret. And it was definitely a secret now. I made the mistake in Philadelphia of trusting my Chief with the information about my…tendencies…and with the way that had blown up in my face, I was reluctant to repeat that. In fact, to eliminate the possibility of Peoria finding out that I'd worked in Philadelphia, I accepted a position as a rookie cop so that I wouldn't have to explain why I suddenly left Philadelphia—or worse, have anyone from Peoria call Philly and learn my dirty little secret. I found a new apartment, and began working. I was happy here. I could make a good life. Because of my experience, secret though it was, I moved quickly up through the ranks. I knew what the superior officers were looking for. I knew how to make it happen. I was meticulous in my paperwork, in my workouts, in my investigating, everything. After a year or so, I started going out to clubs and bars and such—hoping to meet someone to spend some of my free time with.

That was when I met Robby. Robby was a laid back, easy going, never controlling kind of guy. We shared some of the same interests. He liked me as much as I liked him and we hit it off wonderfully. We kept our relationship quiet, because conversation around the water jug at work had told me that most of the people I worked with didn't like gay people and didn't wanna associate with them. Robby and I had been dating for just over a year when Robby started mentioning that he wished we could be more public and open about our relationship. We went on dates regularly, we went to the clubs together whenever I was off and they were open, we grabbed pizza and beer for dinner, and we spent lots of other time enjoying each other's company. I didn't feel a need to take my relationship status public—especially knowing that people wouldn't approve of my relationship.

We were making dinner one night when Robby started in on it again. "I just wish you would tell them! We're so secretive!"

I was cutting up carrots for the salad. "It's not safe for me to tell," I said. "The people I work with…they wouldn't understand."

Robby sighed. "Alright. Alright. But you owe me."

I set my knife down and turned. "How can I repay you?"

Robby looked at him oddly for a moment. Then a sexy smile crossed his features. "You can do me now and do me later, stud," he said saucily.

The next thing I knew Robby was flat on his back on the kitchen floor, dinner completely forgotten. "Wow. Jesus Tony. Holy shit. I wasn't expecting…I mean I know I said…damn that was hot," he chuckled.

"Any way I can make it better?" I asked. I liked Robby. Liked him enough to let my guard down a bit.

"Lick me clean and tell me you're my bitch," Robby said.

I cleaned him thoroughly, and then looked up at my boyfriend. "I'm your bitch," I said. Something was wrong. Oh shit oh shit oh shit…

Robby cupped his hand on the back of my neck and smiled at me. I thought I saw something kind of devious in the expression, but a moment later it was gone. "Yes," he said, "yes you are." I know I had a strange look on my face. "Go finish dinner Tony. And quit being such a slut."

I rose to my feet and returned to preparing the salad. I wasn't sure how I'd been a slut, since I'd only been with Robby in the last year, and I was only doing exactly what Robby told…me…to…A sick feeling of dread—the same one I'd encountered the day I decided to leave Philly rose in my gut. "Hey uh…Robby…you ok man?"

"I think you should call me sir," Robby said.

"I don't," I spat. This was not good. Not good at all.

Robby grabbed my collar. "Call me Sir, Tony," he said, the sweetness in his tone didn't match with the aggression in his grip.

That old familiar feeling washed over me and I sighed. "Yes sir," I mumbled.

"Say it loud and proud, stud!"

"Yes Sir!" I repeated, much more enthusiastically.

"Good," Robby said. The carefree easy-going smile was gone. In its place was a menacing grimace. "Strip boy," he ordered. I took my clothes off. "This is how you will stay as long as we are home. Understand? No clothes for you."

I looked down at my nakedness, cursing my genetic flaw. Tears stung my eyes and I sighed. "Yes Sir," I whispered. Then I resumed the salad preparation once more.

That evening after dinner, I tried to gently coax Robby out the door. "I gotta be up early man, let's call it a night."

"Let's don't," Robby replied coldly. "You aren't going to sleep any tonight. You're going to be my bitch for the whole evening!"

As the familiar feeling swept over me again, I looked pleadingly at the sweet man I'd come to care for so much. "Why are you doing this?" I whispered.

"Get on your knees asshole. That's where you're gonna stay for the rest of the night. You're going to follow me around like a puppy dog, and you're not going to say another word until I tell you to speak. Got it? Not a peep!"

I nodded. My lips may as well have been glued shut. "As for why I'm doing this?" Robby smiled at me. "I'm doing it because I can. As for the how?" he tsked. "Shame on you for not telling me your little secret." I dipped my head in shame. "I bet you're wondering how I found out?" I glanced up at him and nodded. "Over the holidays…when I went home? I went to Philadelphia. That's where my aunt and uncle live. And it just so happens that you know my uncle! You never told me you lived in Philadelphia, Tony! Do you know who my uncle is?"

I looked silently at my boyfriend—soon to be former boyfriend if I had anything to say about it. "Chief Parsons is my uncle. You know him, right? You were working at his police department, weren't you? Don't lie to me."

I nodded. Yes. I was unable to do anything else.

"He wanted to keep you all for himself," Robby said. "He was going to make you his star officer. You were going to be his number one. But you ran away. So sad. And you ran right into Peoria—my town. And then I found out your little secret. And you can't do anything about it, because now you have to do whatever I tell you to."

Robby took a step closer to me. He reached out and touched my face softly and I flinched away. "Shhhh," Robby said. He smiled. "Relax. Let all your worries, all your cares, just drift away."

Much to my horror—that is exactly what happened.

Well I'd like to be able to tell you that I managed to finally resist Robby and that I got out that night and that I was able to be free of him. Unfortunately if I did that, I would be lying. Took me six months to get away. In that time I humiliated myself repeatedly down at the department, I outed myself to everyone I knew in Peoria, I thanked them when they insulted me for it, and every night went home to the controlling man who seemed to run my life.

I had to fight through layer upon layer of manipulation and control. Somewhere along the line I had nearly lost my identity completely. I knew I couldn't let that happen. Robby had shown me early on that if I even attempted to resist he'd put me into some really uncomfortable situations and leave me there until I consented. I wasn't strong enough to get away on my own—I had gotten sucked in too deeply, and his control and manipulation were too absolute. There was no escape unless he willed it.

And there my friends, was my challenge. I had to get my boyfriend to will it. He had to want me gone. So I began a very subtle, very passive aggressive quest to get him over me. I was already working my two week notice, because I figured it wouldn't take me long to make him scream at me to leave. I'd already given up my apartment and moved in with him—making the control that much tighter. I was surprised he still let me work, but he said it was because he liked spending my money. So I needed to make him despise me. I quit showering. That worked for several days until he told me I reeked and needed to shower. What he did not tell me was that I needed to wash. So I used that time in the shower, with the water pouring over me, to strengthen myself for the coming days. It would take everything in me to purposefully misinterpret every command he gave me. I quit brushing my teeth. I quickly developed some very nasty habits that even grossed me out. Still I persevered. If I cooked and he told me to clean up I would leave the food out on the counter to rot unless he specifically told me to put the food away. I hated being wasteful, but I hated wasting my life too. If he told me to turn on a movie I would pick out the sappiest girliest chick-flickiest flick I could find. If he told me to watch television I would turn it on the Home Shopping Network.

Now. I didn't make all of these changes all at once. They happened gradually, and over time. And I was not wrong. It took him about two weeks to become completely disgusted with me. It was right in the middle of dinner actually, when he finally lost it. I'd made spaghetti for dinner. We sat down and I started eating with my fingers. I wasn't allowed to speak, but I could still make sounds, so I made crude vocalizations of pleasure at the taste of my dinner. I slurped and licked and belched and smiled at Robby. Robby watched me in horror. "God you are a stupid bitch," he roared, "Eat like you're supposed to!" Purposefully misinterpreting the instructions, I sat the plate on the floor and proceeded to drop onto my all fours. He told me I was a bitch and told me to eat like I was supposed to—well last time I checked, dogs eat on the floor and don't use their hands at all!

After dinner, he told me to clean myself up, so I wiped my face on the crotch of his pants and smiled angelically up at him. That, it seemed, was the last straw. "GOD! Christ you are so disgusting! You make me sick! Get the hell out of here! Go on! Get out of my sight!"

And as I ran out the door—leaving all of my belongings behind me except for the ones I'd managed to sneak into the car over the past few days—I smiled. Mission accomplished.

My next goal was finding somewhere to take a shower. I really was gross. I slid behind the wheel of my car, cranked up my radio, tossed the cell phone out into the parking lot, and drove right out of Robby's life. And ya know? I'm still following that order—I have stayed out of his sight ever since.

TBC…


	3. Baltimore

**Spoilers for episode: 8.22 Baltimore (Though not all of it is canon!)  
**_Thanks as always to my wonderful friend and beta, Gotgoats—you rock dude! :)_

**Compelled  
****Chapter 3: Baltimore**

I spent some time after I left Peoria, drifting from town to town. I found I was drinking a lot, and generally miserable. I knew that my newfound depression came from the fact that I missed Robby. He'd made sure I would miss him before he cast me out of his home. I didn't regret my actions—I knew I was better off. But once you've been abused so completely and thoroughly, it becomes difficult to learn to survive without it. I knew I could do it—after all, my father had never been one of my biggest fans, and had repeatedly used my genetic flaw to his own favor and need. It was difficult adjusting though—and more difficult now because I had trusted Robby so completely. I was devastated.

I headed for Baltimore, Maryland. I heard there was police work there. Even if there wasn't I figured if it didn't work out I could head down to DC—surely there'd be something for me to do there. Even if it wasn't police work. I was hired almost immediately by the Chief of Police in Baltimore. Unlike Philly, I'd been able to use Peoria as a reference. My chief there had been sorry to see me leave, and wanted me to land on my feet wherever I drifted off to. He gave me a stellar recommendation, gold stars all the way. I was hired on as a detective for the BPD. My partner's name was Danny Price. He'd been on the force for several years—and had been an officer for as long as I had. We were the same age, different by only a few months. He was a bit of a geek—liked to wear his fancy suits and ties to work. I kept telling him he was only going to ruin them, and he kept telling me if he ever met Mrs. Right that he wanted to look his best. I teased him for wearing suits and he teased me for wearing tube socks (I do NOT wear tube socks!). We formed a relationship that was as close to being friends as I was willing to do. After everything that had happened to me it was a wonder I didn't go try to live as a hermit somewhere. Danny and I would grab a beer after a shift, or a pizza during a case. Occasionally we'd hit the bar on an evening when we were off. Danny seemed to be a real good guy, I liked him a lot, but I kept him at arm's reach. Like Peoria, I didn't tell anyone about how easily I could be compelled to do something.

One January day, two years after I began working for BPD, Danny and I were on a stakeout for a money-laundering ring, when I saw a suspicious looking man heading into the building we were watching. He carried a case with him, and when he came back out, the case was not with him. Knowing that today we were supposed to make a jump for it, Danny told me to go get the guy. I didn't let on like I had no choice—was, in fact, already hopping out of the car when Danny gave me the order. I ran like I hadn't run since college—chased the perp down the block, cursing my previously broken leg every step of the way. It always hurts on days when it's cold. I got close enough to him to try for a tackle, pushed myself forward three more steps to gain more ground on him, and made a flying leap after him. I caught him around the waist and drove both of us into the ground. He took a wild swing at me with his elbow and when I drew back he rolled to his back. I stared down at him and for a split second I froze and all I could think was _'He has the most amazing blue eyes.'_ He swung again and I pinned him. About that time Danny arrived, huffing and puffing and cussing because he'd spilled his Mongolian Beef when he took off after me. We got the perp cuffed and walked him back to the car. We'd take him back to headquarters and see if we could get any information out of him that could help us solve our case.

What we were not expecting, was to learn that the perp was not, in fact, a perp. He was an undercover federal agent, working for the Naval Criminal Investigative Service. He knew that we were staked out, knew that we were watching—and knew WHO we were watching, and he decided that the best way to get in on the action was to rustle up a criminal record and get himself arrested. He'd done it all on purpose. Calculated. Careful. I was awestruck. This man was not only dripping with sexiness—he was brilliant! I teased him good-naturedly about his name—teasing which he took in stride, and we agreed to work together on the case. I noticed Danny seemed threatened by the presence of this federal agent, but wasn't sure why he would be. No federal agent I know would be gunning for a job as a run-of-the-mill detective in a city police department. I made a mental note to ask him about it later, and we continued our investigation.

The federal agent—Leroy Jethro Gibbs (Isn't it a hilarious name?!)—invited me to accompany him to DC for the evening to meet up with his lab tech about the evidence she had, as well as speak to their medical examiner about a dead naval officer who was believed to be involved. I was amazed at how state of the art the whole place was—and when I got to the forensics lab I nearly squeed like a schoolgirl at all the equipment. It was all so genius—so state of the art—so…useful…it was a wonder to me that any crime went unsolved in this place. The lab tech acted like she didn't know whether to trust me or not, til Gibbs told her I was ok and that I was working with him on the case. Everyone seemed surprised that I would be working with him, though I'm not sure why. The medical examiner was a really nice man—Scottish—and he seemed to love to tell stories to anyone who would love to hear them. I found him fascinating. I could have sat with him and let him tell me stories all day, but I knew there was work to do and I knew Gibbs wanted to get the case closed. He was bitching and fussing most of the day about some guy named Stan, whom I later learned was his Senior Field Agent. The guy was out sick with an ulcer in his stomach (no wonder) and had put in for a transfer to "anywhere but with Gibbs," was how Abby, the forensic tech described it.

"Why does everyone hate working with Gibbs so much?" I couldn't help but ask.

She stared at me like I'd grown another head. "You mean you don't?"

I shrugged. "Nah. I mean he's hard core and all, a real tough cookie, but he's good people, and he seems like he really knows his shit, and he wants to do a good job. I could get behind a guy like that." _In more ways than one,_ I thought to myself.

"DiNozzo," a gruff voice from behind me spoke. I turned, knowing the owner of the voice was Gibbs himself. "Quit flirting with my forensic tech and let's move."

I was hurrying behind him before I even realized it. When the thought did occur to me I nearly drew pause, momentarily frightened.

"Hey Boss?" I called. And then caught myself when he turned around. "I don't know why I called you 'Boss,'" I said sheepishly. "Sorry 'bout that."

"Don't apologize," Gibbs said as we stepped into the elevator. "Rule number six."

"What's that mean?" I asked.

"It means that if you don't have a good reason to apologize then you shouldn't. Apologies are a sign of weakness," Gibbs said.

I quickly decided I could learn a lot from this man. The investigation continued and within twenty-four hours I found myself standing in an alley, gun drawn on our suspect. He didn't know where Danny was, and now he was face to face with a Sig whose owner, he was pretty sure, wouldn't hesitate to use on him if he were given half a chance. "Freeze," Tony said with more confidence than he felt.

The suspect smiled and leveled his gun at Tony. "Hold it…right…there," Gibbs' voice echoed from the other end of the alley. Tony breathed a sigh of relief, grateful to have the other man on his back. He nearly shot Danny when he stepped out of the shadows in the alley, gun also pointed at the suspect. "Freeze," Danny said unenthusiastically.

The suspect stared at Danny for a long moment and then smirked. "I see," he said, lowering his gun.

I quickly helped handcuff our money launderer and since Gibbs' jurisdiction trumped ours, he took control of the situation. As we tossed the guy into the backseat of Gibbs' car, Gibbs looked at me. "That was good work," he said.

That night I went to Danny's apartment. His wife had left him, took the kids, moved across town with her mother. Danny lived alone and his apartment needed some repairs, but honestly it was in better shape than mine. It didn't take long for the mood of the conversation to decline. I was getting angrier by the moment. How could Danny do this to me? How could he lie? How could I have gotten partnered up with yet another dirty cop?

"You're a dirty cop Danny. Be careful, be very careful, I'm not feeling the love right now."

"Did he look guilty to you?" Danny's voice had an odd tone to it. Almost threatening…almost. "He didn't look guilty to me." He sounded so surly. Almost like he was daring me to contradict him.

"You saw what you wanted to see," I said grimly. It was going to end tonight. This was not going to be good.

There was an awkward pause and Danny looked around his living room, uncomfortable with the situation. "So that's it then. You gonna turn me in?"

"Don't you think I should? What the hell were you thinking?"

"It wasn't like that," Danny said lamely. "C'mon man—" he grabbed my arm and I stared at him until he let go.

I tried to hide the emotions that were coursing inside me, but it wasn't hard to see the anger, hurt, and betrayal that must have been marring my features.

"So…I'm gonna take a walk," Danny said. "I guess if you're still here when I get back I'll have my answer." He brushed past me without another word.

I refused to turn around and watch him leave.

I nearly jumped out of my skin a couple of minutes later when Gibbs poked his head around the door. "You're lucky I didn't shoot you," I muttered gloomily.

"Mistaking me for someone else?" Gibbs asked innocently.

"Sor—I didn't know who you were," I said lamely. "I um…Danny and I…we were um…disagreeing about…"

"About whether or not he was involved in the money laundering ring we busted today?"

"How do you do that?" I asked, exasperated.

"Do what?" Gibbs asked.

"Read my mind all the damn time!"

Gibbs had the decency to look mildly surprised. "I don't read your mind," he said with a casual shrug. I swear the man is so comfortable in his skin it just makes me want…to…ok back on topic.

"Well then how do you do it?" I tried not to snap, but I was tired, my partner was beginning to make me think he really was a dirty cop, and the other guy I was working with was withholding information it seemed. All that adds up to a not very happy Tony.

"I follow the evidence," Gibbs said. "And then you follow rule number three. Don't assume you have all the information. Verify it."

"How many rules do you have?" I couldn't help but ask.

"Enough," Gibbs answered. "If you stick around long enough you might learn them all." I noticed he was careful to not word it like an order, and it made me wonder what he knew. But how would he have found out about me?

Gibbs convinced me that I should leave Danny's apartment. He suggested laying low for a couple of days, and then going to the chief and telling him what I know. Before I realized it, we were standing next to Gibbs' car. "Want a ride?" he asked.

I looked around. My corvette was parked out in front of the apartment…with a boot on the tire. I figured Danny had arranged for that to happen, as I wasn't parked illegally. "Goddammit," I muttered.

"I'll give you a ride if you like," Gibbs said.

"I want my damn tire unlocked," I grumbled.

"We'll work on that too," Gibbs said. "I might be able to make that happen."

I wasn't afraid of riding with Gibbs; I'd already survived riding to DC and back with him. He weaved the car in and out of traffic, and left me alone with my thoughts for a few minutes. It might have surprised Gibbs to know that I wasn't thinking about the mess with Danny. I probably should have been, but something else was attracting my attention. That was Gibbs. He seemed to be continuously avoiding opportunities to give out orders. And I'd been hanging around Gibbs enough by now to know that the man loved to give orders. I wondered if he'd figured out my little secret. I felt increasingly pushed to tell him about me and how I was, but I was frightened. Everyone who knew, everyone I had ever told, with the exception of my mother, had used that information against me. I had been coerced, manipulated, abused and made not to care or worry about that, by people in my life whom I should have been able to trust. But this…this feeling of urgency to tell this man was as strong as the feeling of dread I oftentimes found myself with right before I was cruelly manipulated. "Hey Gibbs," I said quietly. I waited until he glanced at me, but the split second gaze was so piercing that I felt like I couldn't even look at him. I stared at my lap. "I uh…can we call a time out and go for coffee?" I asked. "I um…I need to talk to you about something." Why was I doing this?

Gibbs glanced at me again. I thought he was going to say no, but he surprised me. "Ok," he said.

I pointed him in the direction of a good coffee shop in town. Gibbs liked three things I'd noticed so far. He liked giving orders. He liked driving like a bat outta hell, and he absolutely LOVED coffee.

"Kind of out of the blue," Gibbs commented.

"I know but this is important," I said. I felt a bit like a kid in the principal's office.

To my surprise, Gibbs locked the brakes down and brought the car to a screeching halt. "Then tell me now," he said.

Damn him, and he didn't even know what he was doing. I took a deep breath, unable to stop myself. "There's um…something about me…and if we're going to work together I think you should know."

"Well I think we're nearly finished working together," Gibbs commented, but he had that annoying gentle tone in his voice again.

"It's important," I insisted. Why was I doing this?!

"Is it something that I didn't find in your employee file?" Gibbs asked.

I blinked, surprised that he'd seen my file, but I realized I shouldn't have been surprised. "How did you…It shouldn't be in my file. I haven't told anyone in years. It's um…it's not safe. No one at BPD knows, but for some reason…some reason I think you should know," my voice got lower and lower until it was nothing but a pitiful whisper.

"That you're an Opsequensotype?"

I blinked. I had never heard that word before. But I was willing to bet we were talking about the same thing. "What does that word mean?"

"Opsequensotype. From the latin, Opsequens, a word meaning indulgent, compliant, obedient, gracious and dutiful. The –otype refers to a genetic composition."

I was so busted. "How did you know that?" I blurted.

"I didn't know for sure," Gibbs said. He smiled. "But I thought perhaps you were. And you're right—it isn't in your employee file. Does your partner know?"

I shook my head. "No," I whispered. "At least I don't think he does."

"Why not?"

"Because the last time I told someone I work with, he used me to…he tried to get me to botch an investigation…tried to make me change my story."

Gibbs took a step closer to me and I felt my cheeks tint pink. "Did he succeed?" Gibbs' voice was barely a whisper.

"No," I croaked. "But only because I could find a loophole in his directions. They didn't get busted though; I only managed to not screw the pooch."

Gibbs frowned. "You should be able to trust your partner no matter what," he grumped. "What that man did was unacceptable." He looked at me closely. "Are you thinking I wouldn't want to work with you because of this?"

I shrugged, not catching the inference from Gibbs that we might work together in the future. "I just…I dunno what all's gonna go down…but whatever it is…I wanted you to know I'm clean—I'm a good cop…my body just…doesn't always cooperate with me."

"But you can resist it."

"Only sometimes," I whispered. "I'm not sure why." My shoulders drooped. Really if there was one thing about myself that I could change, this would be it. I hate this aspect of myself.

Suddenly Gibbs was close—in my space—in my air. "Hey," he put his hand on my shoulder, "This…this isn't your fault. It's in your genes. It came from your parents. It isn't your fault."

"I don't like it," I know I sounded like a spoiled kid, but I didn't care. "I want to change…want to make it stop…but it's just…following orders comes as naturally as breathing. I can't resist it…I don't want to resist it."

"It hurts when you try, doesn't it?" Gibbs said softly. He didn't sound as though he was asking though. He knew the answer even before I said it.

"Yes," I whispered.

"Listen to me," Gibbs said gently, then he caught himself. "If you want. This…this isn't something you can control really. And it's a part of who you are. So if you could learn to accept it—to embrace it even, I bet it'd make your life easier."

I noticed again how careful he was to not make that sound like an order. "You seem like you have…experience with this," I said awkwardly.

"I do," Gibbs said, but he didn't offer any further information. He put the car in gear again and pulled back out into traffic. "I'll try to keep the direct orders to a minimum Tony. I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable. If I do, tell me." I noticed that _was_ an order.

"I will," I said nodding. "I promise."

"Good," Gibbs said. "Let's get coffee, and get your car. Then we'll go back to your place and talk."

xxx

I spent the evening at my place with Gibbs and the more we talked the safer I felt with him. I felt confident that I had made the right choice in telling him about me. He really seemed to understand me and people like me—odd because I don't think I'd ever met anyone who understood before. He tried really hard to avoid saying things that had a commanding sound. We also decided that I needed to go to Baltimore PD and confront Danny and give the chief my information. We'd originally thought it'd be better to wait a few days, but once Gibbs understood how upsetting this was for me, and how torn I was on it, he suggested that we go ahead and do it.

The next morning as we walked into the department, I was relieved that Gibbs had agreed to come with me. I knew that chief would be more likely to believe Gibbs than he would me. I didn't even look at Danny as I headed for the chief's office, but he knew what was up and he was on his feet following me almost instantly. He looked horrible. His normally starched suit was rumpled and the red rings around his eyes made me think he'd had more than juice to drink the night before. "Tony what are ya doin?" he asked as Gibbs and I headed into the office. I ducked my head and kept walking, but he grabbed my arm and stopped me. "Answer me," he growled.

I raised my gaze and looked at him, trying to shove down the urge his words inspired in me. But it was no use. I sighed. "We're going to talk to the chief," I said. "About you."

Gibbs was right behind me and gave me a gentle pat on the back. I turned to look at him and he motioned with his head for me to follow him. I turned and followed him and Danny followed me.

I told the chief what had happened in the alley. Told him about the conversation that Danny and I had in his apartment the night before. Chief listened intently, his frown growing as I spoke. He glanced from me to Danny to Gibbs and back again and didn't speak. When I was finished, I clasped my hands behind my back. "I just thought you should be aware, sir," I said stiffly.

At that moment, before anyone could say anything, Gibbs' cell phone rang. He looked at it. "It's the FBI," he said. He'd called one of his buddies over there last night while we were talking and reported to him what all had happened—both here in Baltimore, and up in Philly all those years ago. I told him I could provide him with copies of all the reports from the undercover case in Philadelphia if he needed them. "Gotta take it," Gibbs said and walked out of the office.

The instant the door closed behind him, a shark-like grin appeared on the chief's face. "I don't believe you DiNozzo," chief said plainly. "I think you're making the whole thing up."

"But I'm not—"

"You are," Chief insisted and I froze, feelings of dread washing over me. "You're making it all up."

I shook my head, but already I could feel the change happening inside me. "I'm making it up?" I whispered.

"Yes," Chief said. "All of it. In fact, you're the dirty cop here, aren't you? Not your partner Danny. You're the one doing all the damage here."

No this was wrong I needed to fight this. I needed to get away. I took a step towards the door.

"Now, now, don't leave," Chief said and my foot stilled. "We need to figure out what to do with you, and quickly. Keep quiet while we think of something."

"Chief how are you getting him to do what you're telling him to?" Danny asked. He was astonished by my behavior. The feelings of dread grew.

"He's an opsequensotype," Chief said and my dread tripled. At Danny's blank look, Chief rolled his eyes. "He has to do what we say. His body doesn't give him the option."

"Oh well isn't THAT convenient!" Danny said gleefully. "I know exactly what to do with him!"

Chief raised his eyebrows, but decided to let Danny have his fun. After all, he was the one I was targeting. I guess it was only fair. Danny stepped up to me and smiled. "You're so distraught that your involvement in all the embezzling and money laundering is about to be noticed by the police. You're so distraught, in fact," Danny sneered at me then. "That you're going to go fling yourself off the middle of the Frances Scott Key Bridge."

Remember earlier when I said I try to avoid situations like this?

I looked at Danny, my dear friend, my partner, my…murderer. I didn't speak, had no reason to, and then I turned and left the office.

I walked right past Gibbs, and wanted to tell him, but I couldn't…I couldn't tell him…couldn't admit my weakness. I got in my car (wheel magically unlocked after a phone call made by Gibbs last night) and started it up. I pulled out in traffic, and the feelings of guilt and remorse tore through me. Part of me knew that this was being done to me—that this was not a choice I was making—but part of me wondered if I had done something to deserve this. If I had committed some crime that would be best punished by death. I paid the toll on the Key Bridge and drove out to the middle. I was careful to stay in the right lane and managed to pull over and put my flashers on without a lot of trouble.

I let out a quiet sigh and a tear dripped from my eye. I was a horrible person. I deserved to die. At least…at least if I died then no one would be able to control me anymore. I got out of the car slowly and stepped to the edge of the bridge. I climbed the steel railing and balanced on it. It was windy out and I wobbled unsteadily on the steel beam. I looked down at the water below and took a deep breath, knowing it would likely be my last one. I lifted my foot to step off when a voice behind me gave a new command.

"TONY STOP!"

I froze, unable to complete the movement. I had contradicting orders—what do I do now? Suddenly Gibbs was on the beam with me, and I knew if I slipped and fell or if I jumped he'd go with me. "What are ya doing Tony?" he asked me, his voice filled with concern. Then a thought occurred to him. "Did they tell you to do this?"

I thought about it for a moment then nodded. "My fault," I whispered. "I did all the damage. My fault. FBI and cops are about to find out what I've done. I deserve to die. I'm a horrible person. I should throw myself off the bridge." I looked down at the water again.

"Climb down with me Tony," Gibbs said gently. He hopped down and held out his hand to me. He held me steady when I wobbled and when I got my feet back on the ground he pulled me into an embrace. "OK," Gibbs said. "Ok it's ok I gotcha." I returned the hug, still confused about what needed to happen.

"Come with me Tony," he said and I followed him to the car. He pulled out his phone and dialed. He listened and then spoke into the phone that he needed a rollback to the Key Bridge to get my car.

We got into the car and Gibbs told me to fasten my belt. He pulled out in traffic and as he drove, pulled out his phone again and made another call. "Duck it's Gibbs. Are you at the office?" He listened for a moment then spoke again. "I'm going to bring Tony down to you. Need you to keep him with you while I run back to Baltimore to tie up some loose ends." He listened again. "It's not safe for Tony in Baltimore," he said. "He'll be safer in DC with us where we can keep him out of trouble."

Gibbs got off the phone and put the phone in his pocket. "Now Tony, can you tell me what they said to you?"

"They said…they tried to confuse me I think," I said softly. I was so ashamed of what had happened it was all I could do to force the words out. But I was already a big enough fuck up—I didn't need anything to add to it. "They told me I had done all the damage—that I had committed all the crime. They told me that since I was about to be found out by the police and FBI that I should go throw myself off the Key Bridge." I looked at Gibbs, and I couldn't stop the tears that filled my eyes. "I didn't… I didn't do it though, did I?"

By now we were across the bridge. Gibbs pulled the sedan into a parking lot and parked the car. He turned so he was almost facing me. "You didn't do anything wrong here," Gibbs said. "You haven't committed any crimes. They manipulated your thoughts to make you think you were the one at fault. But you aren't. This is not. your. fault."

I let out a shuddery breath and rubbed my eyes hard. "Why does this keep happening?" I moaned. "I don't understand…I don't know what I've done…what did I do to deserve all of this? I can't help myself…I don't know what to do!"

Gibbs pulled me close to him again, and I was amazed at how safe it felt. The confusion of the situation was beginning to lift, and the horror of what I nearly did was setting in and I trembled. Gibbs held me tight as I trembled harder, unable to stop or control myself. "It's alright," Gibbs spoke softly to me. "I'm so glad I got to you in time. You're safe now. I will keep you safe. I promise."

After a while I settled down and got control of my emotions again and sniffled loudly. Gibbs chuckled and passed me a napkin with a coffee shop logo on it. I thanked him and blew my nose on it while he pulled back out into traffic. Gibbs pointed the car towards DC and somewhere along the way I dozed off. When Gibbs shook my shoulder to wake me I realized we were in the parking deck at NCIS. "What are we doing here?" I asked softly.

"I need to go back to BPD and make heads roll," Gibbs said. "But I would like it if you'd stay here with Ducky. He has a place in his office where you can rest if you want, and he's a doctor, so he can make sure you're alright too." I noticed Gibbs was back to not giving me direct orders.

"You could just order me to stay with Ducky and I wouldn't have a choice," I pointed out to Gibbs.

"True I could," Gibbs agreed. "But after what you just went through…seems a bit harsh to me, don't you think?"

I shrugged. "Been through bad shit before," I mumbled.

"Not on my watch," Gibbs said and I knew it was a promise. "C'mon," he said and I got out of the car with him. I was incredibly tired, and not really sure why. "Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

"No," I said. "Feel kinda sick. Tired."

"Understandable," Gibbs agreed. "I knew when I saw you walk past me in the squad room that something was up. You didn't look right. And I glanced in the office at the chief and Danny and they were both smiling and congratulating themselves like they'd just won the lottery. I decided to follow you to see what you were up to." Gibbs looked at Tony with a sober expression on his face. "I nearly shit when you parked your car on the bridge."

"Speaking of parking my car—where did my car end up? Is it still back on the bridge?"

Gibbs shook his head. "I called Abby. She's got a friend who does a lot of towing for NCIS. Your car will be sitting down in our impound yard this afternoon."

"I don't know where I'll go," I murmured, almost to myself. "I can't stay in Baltimore. They'll have me jumping off a bridge or eating my gun or something if I'm not careful."

"They aren't going to hurt you anymore," Gibbs said. "I'm going to go make sure of that while you stay here."

We rode the elevator down to the Autopsy lab and I was a bit surprised to find Ducky and Abby waiting for us when the doors slid open. Abby immediately pounced me, hugging me tight. "Ohhh poor Tony," she cooed gently. "I'm so sorry—people shouldn't be so mean to you! It just…you can't help it!"

"Abs," Gibbs said. "Let him breathe."

Abby let me go then. "Sorry," she said. "It's just…you're the first person ever besides me and Ducky who haven't minded working for the grumpy silverfox—sorry Gibbs—and we don't want anything to happen to you!"

"Thanks," I said awkwardly. Honestly I felt like I was about to fall down. The weight of the resistance—even in light of following the new direction—was almost crushing me.

"He needs to rest," Gibbs told Ducky. "He's resisting a direct order. It's taking a lot out of him."

Ducky nodded, understanding. "Jethro…at the risk of sounding callous…have you given him new directions?"

"Told him to stop when he was about to jump off the Key Bridge in Baltimore," Gibbs said. "Only gave him the necessary orders to keep him alive. Don't want him to feel like he's being controlled here."

I blinked. That was new.

Ducky looked at Gibbs. "Is that the direct order he is resisting?"

Gibbs nodded.

Ducky turned to me. "My dear boy. I understand the weight of the resistance you are experiencing," he said gently. I nodded, still too exhausted and dazed to really follow the conversation. Ducky continued. "I would like it if you'd let us help you. I can help you to feel better. Would you allow that?"

I thought about it for a long moment before I stared at Gibbs pleadingly. I needed help. I didn't know what to do. Gibbs rubbed my shoulder reassuringly and smiled sympathetically. "I can't make that call for you Tony. And it is a lot to ask of you—to ask you to trust anyone right now. I understand that. It's a decision that is yours to make."

I looked at my new—dare I say it?—my new friends, and I nodded. I looked at Ducky. "Please," I said softly. "Please help me. It's too much. It's too big."

Ducky smiled sympathetically. "Tony disregard the former directions you were given to jump off of the Key Bridge. You do not want to do that."

Immediately the urge to off myself lifted and I nearly collapsed in relief. I must have swayed though, because all three of them lunged at me. "Would you like to lie down Tony?" Gibbs asked. "Resting might help you feel better."

I nodded and leaned heavier against him. He supported my weight without complaint. "Ok, alright," Gibbs said. "Let's take you to Abby's lab. She has a futon in there that you can rest on and no one will bother you. You'll be safe there." The four of us got on the elevator. I tried to take some of my weight back, but I was just so tired. Gibbs maintained the careful hold he had on me.

"You promise?" I asked, fighting sleep. I was dead on my feet. The gentle motion of the elevator was not helping me to stay awake.

"I promise Tony," Gibbs whispered to me. "You're safe here."

I guess Gibbs held me up then, because I fell dead asleep right there in the middle of the elevator. The next thing I knew the sun was coming in the windows and hitting me right in the face. I could tell it was setting and I froze momentarily. Had I slept all day? I slowly pushed myself up and stretched. I wondered where Gibbs was, and if he was back from Baltimore yet. Then I wondered what all had happened. I had so many questions.

Suddenly Abby appeared in the doorway. "Oh good you're awake!" she chirped. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed a number. "He's awake Bossman!" she said a moment later. She hung up the phone. "Gibbs is on his way down here. He got back from Baltimore a little while ago. We tried waking you up but…no good. You were out like a light."

"How long have I been asleep?" I yawned and stretched again.

"It's late in the afternoon," Abby said. "You've been asleep for…oh I dunno…I guess about six hours."

I couldn't remember the last time I slept six hours in a row.

The elevator dinged and Gibbs stepped off. I noticed there was a scrape on his cheek that hadn't been there earlier and it looked like someone tried to rip the pocket off of his sport coat. He smiled at me. "How ya feeling?"

"Better," I replied. "Thanks for…everything," I said. I could feel my cheeks tinting with embarrassment.

Gibbs tapped a finger under my chin and I lifted my gaze. "You haven't done anything wrong," he reminded me. "I don't think there's any need to feel embarrassed." I smiled then. "Are you hungry?" Gibbs asked me then. I nodded. Gibbs nodded then turned away. "I'm hungry too. What are you in the mood for?" He was heading for the elevator. I got up and followed him.

"Bye Gibbs!" Abby called. "Bye Tony!"

"See ya Abs," Gibbs called, and I waved as the doors slid shut.

"I dunno what I'm in the mood for," I said honestly.

Gibbs turned to me and smiled. "I know a good place where they serve all kinds of food," he said. "You interested?"

"Sure," I replied.

"I'd feel better if you stayed the night at my place tonight," Gibbs said.

He was back to not making orders. "Ok," I agreed. I don't know where else I would have gone—I had no desire to set foot in Baltimore ever again. "What um…what happened today?"

Gibbs didn't answer until we were in the car. "Are you sure you want to do this now?"

"Better now than in a restaurant full of people?" I said with a shrug.

Gibbs nodded. "I returned to BPD this morning with Special Agent Tobias Fornell from the FBI. Since BPD is technically out my jurisdiction, I leaked information to them regarding the evidence we'd found with the money laundering ring regarding the involvement of both the Chief of Police as well as Detective Danny Price, both from BPD."

"Chief was involved? How did I miss that?"

Gibbs just looked at me and I dropped my gaze. "Oh," I said. The only good theory was that I was told to forget, probably along the same time I was told to believe that I was the one who'd committed the crimes in the first place. Damn him. I sighed.

"They put up quite a hassle in the squad room after Fornell read them their rights and told them what they were charged with. They've managed to add assault on two federal agents to their list of charges, as well as resisting arrest."

"Is that where the scrape on your cheek came from?" I asked. I felt bad that Gibbs had gotten hurt because of me.

"Yes," Gibbs said simply. He looked at me and smiled. "You did well Tony. I'm proud of you."

"I didn't do well," I sputtered. "I climbed the Key Bridge with every intention of dropping myself off of it."

"You resisted when you could, you have been honest and forthcoming with me. You just need someone to watch your six, that's all," Gibbs said with a shrug.

"What do you mean?"

"You need someone who can watch your back—make sure no one gives you any orders you can't resist," Gibbs said. "Someone who can help you counteract them if you need to."

Now I liked the idea of that. Someone who would help me, someone who would keep me safe—even from myself.

"If only I had a person like that," I muttered. "Wouldn't have gotten into all of these messes." I shrugged sadly.

"Have you never had it before?" Gibbs asked me gently.

I shrugged. "Thought I had it once. Met this guy…" I stopped momentarily to gauge Gibbs' reaction. God I'd just outed myself without even thinking first. But Gibbs didn't seem upset, only accepting. "I met this guy…Robby…dated him for a long time…over a year. Thought…"

"Thought what?" Gibbs asked when I stopped.

"Thought he was different. Thought I could trust him."

Gibbs cringed. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

I shrugged and sniffled sadly. "Was a long time ago," I whispered. "He…he knew my secret."

Gibbs looked uneasy, but I pressed on. Suddenly I felt like I needed to get it all out. "I didn't know that he knew. Turns out he was the chief of police in Philly's nephew…the same chief who…" I shuddered. "Anyway. Robby went home for the holidays and came back knowing way more than I thought he did. Anyway. He turned it all on me one night. Next thing I knew I was on my knees, lips were sealed—I couldn't speak…and he made me do…well it was pretty humiliating," I whispered.

Gibbs looked sick now. "How did you get away?" his voice was quiet.

I chuckled. "I tricked him. I made myself so disgusting and annoying that he finally told me to get the hell out of his sight." I winked at Gibbs. "That's one order I have never had any problems following."

Gibbs cracked a smile at that. "How long did that take?" he asked.

I sighed. "Took me six months to get away from him. That was when…when I came to Baltimore," I said, staring at my lap. "I ran to Baltimore to get away from him. Guess I landed in even more hot water here, didn't I?"

"It seems," Gibbs nodded. "But you know…the story doesn't have to have a terrible ending like this," he said.

I raised my eyebrows skeptically. "How do you figure that? Everyone I've ever trusted has screwed me. I have nowhere to go. I have nothing Gibbs." I sounded angrier than I felt. What I felt was…lost.

"You could have a brand new start here in DC," Gibbs said with a gentle smile. I raised my gaze and looked at him, shocked.

"What do you mean?"

"I think you know what I mean," Gibbs said gently, the smile still on his face. "I think you'd make an excellent Senior Field Agent, if you're up for the job."

After everything that had happened…everything he'd seen, heard, and witnessed from my coworkers and me… "You're offering me a job?"

"I'm offering you a whole new life," he said. "Starting right now. Tonight."

"How can it start tonight? I'll have to go through training and fill out the applications and—"

"Like this," Gibbs said and leaned forward and kissed me softly.

I blinked, shocked. Everything I ever wanted was right in front of me. "I…you…" my hand rose to my lips.

"Unless you only want it to be a working relationship," Gibbs said. "We could try that too. But I think I'd prefer this way."

I smiled at him and shook my head. "Will you kiss me again?"

He leaned over and this time I returned the kiss. "I'll kiss you a thousand times," Gibbs promised. "And I'll keep you safe. I've got your six Tony. You're safe with me."

Safe. Wow. I smiled at him. "This…Gibbs it's everything I ever…I ever wanted," I whispered.

"I know," Gibbs said softly. "Me too."

We headed off for the restaurant, making plans to get my employment at NCIS started. Gibbs talked on and on about what all we needed to do, and I stared out the window. I wondered if I needed to pick out a new apartment.

TBC…


	4. Plausible Deniability

_Thanks as always to my beta Gotgoats. Goats braved staying awake through the stomach flu to beta this chapter for you guys! Love ya! :)_

**Author's Note: **I dinked with the timeline in the episode again. Loosely based on episode 1.10 Left For Dead—with references to mild spoilers from Season 1 before this episode.

**Compelled  
****Chapter 4: Plausible Deniability**

So I packed up my modest apartment in Baltimore (with help from Gibbs and Ducky who refused to leave my side the entire time I was in the city—no one wanted a repeat of what had already happened!) and I moved to Washington D.C. I insisted that I wanted to have my own apartment—Gibbs and I might be in some…kind…of relationship…but I wasn't ready to give up my independence and become a kept man just yet. Hell I'd only met the guy a few days before. Now, some of you might say that it was foolhardy of me to trust someone—anyone—as quickly as I did with Gibbs. But keep in mind one very important thing. He kept me alive when the whole world wished me dead—including me. I wished I had died too.

But anyway.

I moved to DC. And I got this really awesome apartment—ok it's a bit dull, white walls and kinda bare and all, but really awesome. I had room for my piano, my television, my buttery soft leather couch…you know—all those things in life that make existing fun. The apartment building was old, the superintendent was old, and the boiler in the building was very old. I wouldn't be surprised if someone told me that it was used when it was put in the new building that is now old. I'd ventured down to the boiler room once or twice and was always genuinely amazed that the building still had heat at all.

I went through FLETC and joined the ranks as a federal agent. And I took a number out of Danny's book and invested in several well-made, well-taylored suits, in hopes of making myself look more presentable. Things got off to a bit of a rocky start at first…but eventually, once Agent Vivian Blackadder moved on, Gibbs and I became a two man team. We worked well together. He was careful to avoid giving me direct orders most of the time, and in return I followed him blindly and carried out every unspoken order he gave me. We were a fluid team, sharing responsibilities and our solved cases rate grew each month.

So of course something had to go and screw it up.

After about a year of working on our own, the director informed Gibbs that he needed to find a third person for our team. I didn't understand why we needed another person on our team—we had an exemplary solve rate. When I asked Gibbs about it he just shrugged and said we must be showing up the four-man teams with our solve rate.

That was how we came to have Caitlyn Todd on our team. Kate and I hit it off pretty easily and became fast friends. Gibbs didn't mind that and he didn't mind that she and I would occasionally hit the bar or the pizza parlor after work, and he didn't mind that some weekends we'd go clubbing with Abby and sometimes Gerald from Autopsy. Gibbs and I had elected not to disclose the nature of our relationship, or the nature of my genetic makeup to anyone at NCIS. He has his house, I have my apartment. It didn't take Abby and Ducky long to figure it out, though. Apparently Gibbs had been acting a lot less…Gibbs-ish? since I came to NCIS.

The three of us, Kate, Gibbs and myself, we settled into ourselves pretty quickly. There were several cases right in a row that required us to travel a bit, so it didn't take us long to see each other at our best and at our worst. I don't mind traveling so much, but it's always nice to get back home so that our lives could go back to normal. Normal for Gibbs and me meant that some nights we each stayed home and some nights we both stayed at Gibbs' house. I didn't so much mind that we didn't spend all of our time at my apartment…it's kind of my happy place ya know? My zone, my space, my…my sanctuary. Nothing could hurt me there because it was MY space. I created it for me and me alone, as evidenced by the twin-sized bed in the exceptionally large bedroom. Gibbs knows about it—helped me move it into the apartment. He never mentions it though. Hasn't ever questioned it. He gets it.

Gibbs doesn't so much like my apartment because he says any time he's there he always feels like he's getting distracted by all the things in the building that need fixing. Cracks in the ceiling, seals on the windows, leaky faucet in the bathroom, those sorts of things. Me? I love it. Everything about it. It's quirky and weird and it suits me just fine. I love my crappy little apartment with all of its imperfections. But on nights that we stay together, we stay at Gibbs' house. He's lived there for something like twenty five years or something…he says he can't imagine living anywhere else. It's an unspoken truth in our relationship that if he and I ever decided to take our relationship to the next level and move in together, that I'd be moving in to his house with him. And I'm ok with that. As much as I love my apartment, I love Gibbs' house too. It's homey and cozy and smells like Gibbs, and I'm very comfortable there. It's my other happy place.

So one night I'm sleeping at home and my cell phone rings. We have a case. Of course, this is in the middle of February so it's as cold as a witch's…erm…it's really cold out. I'd been feeling a bit antsy for a few weeks since I'd just past the two year mark of being in DC. I felt tense, like I was holding my breath. It seemed that every two years or so the Universe thought it necessary to screw with Very Special Agent Tony DiNozzo. Two years ago it was Danny. Two years before that was Robby. Two years before that was Chief. Two years before that I broke my leg…I think you get the idea. Anyway, so I'm all on edge, waiting on something to happen, waiting on the powers that be to give me some reason to have to pack up my life and move on again. Only I don't so much want to move on now…I'm happy here. So I was on edge when the call came in. It was one of those nights when Jethro and I were at our own houses. I figured he didn't answer the phone when dispatch called him—that was why they called me. So I tried calling Gibbs and he didn't answer for me either—which is weird. Knowing we had to have our boss in order to run the case, I headed for Gibbs' house.

When I got there, Gibbs was in his basement. It took me about five seconds to determine why he hadn't answered—if the pint sized jar filled with bourbon and a pickled cell phone were any indication.

"Hey Boss," I called. He was working on his boat (Yes he builds boats in his basement. Yes I help him. No I will NOT tell you how he gets them out. That's classified information.). I cringed at the cell phone again. He followed my gaze and smirked. "Telemarketers?" I asked weakly. I picked up the jar and eyed it like a specimen.

Gibbs snorted and picked up his planer. "Ex-wife," he muttered. "Calling to tell me what a worthless piece of shit I am," he picked up a beer bottle and held it up to the bourbon jar, clinking the glass together in a toast. "Happy Anniversary."

"Boss?" I asked, not entirely sure I was following what he was saying.

"She calls me every year on our anniversary to tell me how much I screwed up her life." He set the planer down on the workbench, and took the jar from my hand and set it beside the planer. Gibbs put one hand on my hip and smiled at me. We shared a sweet kiss, and for a moment, I'd almost forgotten why I'd come over in the first place (though kisses are ALWAYS a good reason to go to Gibbs' house).

"We got a case," I told him regretfully.

Gibbs' head thunked down hard on my shoulder. "Dammit," he muttered.

I kissed him again and smiled. "Lady was buried in Rock Creek Park. Turns out she wasn't dead, and she didn't stay buried." I smiled. It sounded like something out of a movie.

Gibbs sighed. "Alright. Let me change and we'll go. You're driving and I need coffee." He started up the stairs and I followed right behind him.

"On your six Boss," I said cheerfully. It was almost a joke between us—ever since Baltimore and the promises Gibbs had made to me there…it's a secret way of saying 'I love you' without having to be sappy and actually come out and say the words.

Turns out our victim, who was not-so-dead when she was buried, managed to dig herself out of the shallow grave she'd been thrown into. It also turns out that she was not quite as innocent as we all originally thought. AND she might have possibly been just a shade on the loco side.

If the bomb she dropped on the lab was any indication.

As I picked myself up off the street, two nights after the original call came in, I seriously considered the fact that my ears may well be damaged for life. I couldn't hear anything over the ringing. From the look on Gibbs' face he couldn't hear so much either. Gibbs was pretty pissed though—crazy woman nearly took out the whole team! I brushed the dust off of myself and tried not to curse the dead, but dammit I really liked that suit.

We were pretty lucky when it was all said and done and the medics had looked us over. Kate had taken a knock to the head, and was beating herself up pretty badly that she'd somehow missed this key piece to the case. How were we to have known that our victim was sleeping with her boss? He'd tried to have her killed when she insisted he leave his wife. He hadn't succeeded…instead, she'd decided that if she couldn't have him no one could. That was why she'd blown up the lab. I had a pretty good cut on my hand and my shoulder was dislocated. Medics put it in a sling and gave me some muscle relaxers and told me to see an ortho next week. I'd make the appointment eventually. Gibbs had a cut on his arm and he lost his hat, but other than that he was fine. Pissed about the hat, more pissed about the injuries the three of us had. Once we were cleared by the EMTs, Gibbs called the Director and told him what had happened. Director told us to go home and get some rest—we could come in tomorrow and write up our closing reports.

All in all, we were pretty lucky. And…judging by the state the remains of the building were in…it looked like our little bombmaker got what she wanted in the end too.

Gibbs told me I could go back to his house with him. After the events of the past couple of days though, and with how grouchy Gibbs had been throughout the entire case (no doubt due to the anniversary lingering in the background), I really just wanted some space. I wanted to crawl into my bed, sleep off the case, and not have to think about anything until tomorrow. I unlocked the apartment and shivered when I entered. Felt a bit chilly in there to me tonight. The building was drafty anyway though. I turned up the heat, thinking to knock off the chill, and crawled into bed. I nearly cried a few hours later when I woke up shivering in my apartment. I knew I'd turned up the heat, and I knew that it was late winter. That could only mean one thing, and I flopped down on the mattress and groaned, knowing what would happen next. The boiler must have gone out. Old Rusty finally let go, finally kicked the bucket, and now we were all going to freeze before morning as a result.

I rolled outta bed, thankful that I was wearing sweats at least, and pulled on some socks and shoes. I was moving a bit slower than normal thanks to my bum shoulder. I picked up my keys and my cell phone and headed for the basement. I was hopeful that the building superintendent would be there, but I wasn't betting the ranch on it. When I got to the basement, it took me some time to dig out the door to the Boiler Room. I made a mental note to talk to the superintendent (who was nowhere to be seen) about leaving the door to the Boiler Room unblocked, and started working on the door. Our Boiler Room was an old bomb shelter that was converted into a boiler room. It had thick steel walls and one of those old steel doors on it—kinda looked like something that would come off of an old battle ship—it even had a lock on it that resembled a ship's wheel—it was heavy and rusted and it was all I could do to unlock the damn thing. I finally got the door open and a waft of hot steam met me in the face when I swung the door open. Looks like I'd found the building's heat.

Pulling out my cell phone, I dialed up the building super. I knew it was like four in the morning, but I didn't honestly care. He took lousy care of the building and I'd do everything in my power to make sure he knew that I knew what he was doing.

"lo? Wha'thefuck? Who's this?" The super barked into the phone.

"Hi there Dale, this is Tony DiNozzo in 7C. Calling to let you know that the boiler is out. I'm looking at it now, and it's leaking all over everything here in the boiler room. Making a big mess."

"So mop it up, Smartass," Dale sneered in my ear. He and I weren't close.

"Ok," I agreed, feeling that familiar feeling of dread wash over me.

"Heh, Heh," Dale chuckled. "I'll be there in a minute."

"I'm concerned it might explode," I told him, already looking for a mop. "Need to turn the water off."

"Need to turn the water off," Dale mimicked me in my ear. "Just shut the hell up DiNozzo and quit yer whinin'. I'll get there and fix you right up."

He hung up in my ear, which was good, since I was unable to speak. I set about mopping and, true to his word, a few minutes later, Dale showed up. The boiler was stinking and smoking now, more hot steam was pouring out and condensing on the steel walls. There was water still being pumped into the boiler—and it was cold outside, which likely meant the water being pumped through the cold underground pipes was cold too. Cold water pumped into a hot boiler could NOT be a good thing. I was no expert on boilers, but I was smart enough to figure that much out.

"Well, well, well," Dale sneered. "What do we have here?"

I was still mopping silently, trying to clean the mess up as I'd been instructed to do. I looked up at him, my eyes pleading for help, and Dale's glare only hardened. "You ignoring me now?"

I shook my head, no. I was still not able to speak.

Dale walked over to the boiler, and began checking it out. He raised up with a slightly nervous look on his face. I moved over closer to where he was standing, hoping to see what he was seeing, but didn't really know what I was looking for. The water was gushing out over my feet now. The water was being heated to boiling, which was burning the hell out of my feet—and warming the floor to almost uncomfortable levels too. I was still using the mop, but it was no use. The water was too powerful and I was only one guy with a little mop trying to keep up.

"Suppose I shoulda turned off the water," Dale said snarkily. He looked at me and I nodded my head. "Maybe you're not such a dumbass after all, DiNozzo," he said incredulously.

The boiler was making more and more racket, and the steam was building and increasing, and the water levels in the boiler room were rising.

"Best thing to do is seal this room until I can get a repairman out here," Dale decided. He started towards the door. I was still mopping, but was moving towards the door behind him.

"You're a good little mop boy, DiNozzo," Dale told me. "You should stay down here and keep that mess from flooding the basement til the repairman gets here." He laughed and stepped out of the boiler room.

I looked at him in horror as my body started working even harder to keep up with the command. Dale glanced back over his shoulder in surprise that I wasn't following him out or making some snarky comment to him. Believe me—I had LOADS of snarky comments, I just couldn't get them to come out of my mouth. His eyes widened in surprise and knowing and I could feel my gut churning. I didn't like the look on Dale's face.

"Say…are you one of those guys who has to do what he's told? They did a news report about people like that the other night on Nightline," Dale said. "Even the smallest little command becomes the focus of your whole existence…is that what's going on here? Is that why you aren't talking?"

I looked down and kept mopping. Dale took a step forward and he had a really, very sinister grin on his face. "Answer me," he said.

"Yes," I blurted, unable to stop myself. "Yes I'm one of those people. What the hell are you thinking? You can't leave me in here like this I'll die—what if the boiler explodes?!"

Dale really wasn't a bad guy, but it's funny what people will do when they realize they have power over someone else. "I'm thinking I have a new mop boy." I took a step towards the door, every bone in my body trying to get ahead of the order I knew was coming. "Why don't you just step on back inside there," Dale said. "And keep mopping like I told you until the repairman gets here. I'll even make it easier for you," he said and now his grin was purely evil. "I'll even close the door for you."

I knew with my dislocated shoulder and with the drugs I'd been given that I wouldn't hold up well in this steam and heat for long. It wouldn't take me long to get completely dehydrated. "Hurry," I begged, my body already mopping again. Dale looked at me and sneered in disgust. "People like you are freaks," he said. "You shut up and don't make a sound. No yelling, no banging. Not a sound. Last thing I need is to get in trouble because of you."

My eyes widened as the door slammed, and over the racket of the boiler, I just barely made out some very disturbing, very frightening sounds. Dale locking the door. Dale piling all the stuff back in front of the door. A moment later the light went out—the switch was located on the wall outside the boiler room.

I was trapped. And boy was it dark.

xxx

It didn't take me long to figure out that I was pretty much completely screwed. Remember how I told ya that the boiler room was an old bomb shelter? Reinforced steel walls surrounded by concrete meant I had no cell phone signal. I couldn't stop mopping because that jackass Dale told me I had to keep at it (even though the water was inches deep in the floor now—covering my shoes in hot water). My shoulder was beginning to ache because the muscle relaxers were wearing off and I was doing exactly what the doctor had told me NOT to do with the shoulder, and that was USE it. I had no idea if Dale was going to actually call for a repairman, or if he was going to leave me here to die. I didn't know if the room was airtight or not—which immediately makes it _feel_ airtight, and without any light I couldn't keep an eye on the boiler to make sure it wasn't about to explode on me.

I didn't have a watch, but I was able to keep track of time on my cell phone. I was frantically pacing around the boiler room waving my phone around like mad trying to find a signal. No luck. There was no signal to be had.

My head was pounding and I wondered if it was from the heat in the room, the dehydration from the heat in the room, the explosion earlier that bounced me into the street, or exhaustion. I was so tired. God I could barely hold my head up. My shoulder was burning with an intensity that had nothing to do with the temperature in the room, and I figured I was doing permanent damage to it. Or at the very least I'd require surgery to fix it.

The clock rolled past 8am. Then 9am. Around 10am I finally sat down in a heap in the hot water, unable to go any farther. My arms still tried to mop but I was just too tired. I couldn't do it anymore. The hot water washed over me and I knew that I'd likely die here. I wasn't optimistic that a repairman would show up. I wondered if the other residents in the building would notice that the boiler was out. It was cold enough outside that they likely would, but most of the older people had space heaters, so maybe it would take some time.

Time I didn't have.

I wanted to find a way out of there—needed to find a way out of there—but my body refused to cooperate. I was in yet another deadly situation thanks to my stupid body, and this time I didn't see how I'd ever get out of it. I glanced at the phone again as I struggled to my feet. I leaned heavily against the wall, but it was hot to the touch, thanks to the flooding boiler. The steam pressure was getting higher and I felt a bit like I was in a pressure cooker. I knew that with the room having nowhere to vent to, and with no release for the steam eventually the pressure would begin to do physical damage to me and that would only complicate my situation—that was assuming the boiler didn't explode before that.

I felt sluggish, like I was dehydrated, and I couldn't help but laugh at my predicament. I could see the headlines now: "Man Dies From Heat Exhaustion, Dehydration In Boiler Room Flood On Coldest Day of the Year."

Some days my life just really sucks.

I kept trying to send out text messages only to get 'Out Of Service' notifications after each attempt. Talk about frustrating. I couldn't scream, I couldn't beat on the walls, I couldn't do anything but lay on the floor and hope to either drown or suffocate before the boiler exploded. I'd nearly given up and was beginning to lose consciousness when I heard something. Something faint—so faint I almost convinced myself that I imagined it. But I refused to let my hope die and fought to keep my eyes open. The noise from the boiler was getting louder and my ears were aching terribly—the noise coupled with the boom of the explosion last night was wreaking havoc on my hearing.

My lips felt dry and chapped, even though I repeatedly scooped up water and ran over them. I didn't know if the water was clean, so I didn't drink it, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to put some on my lips. I was soaking wet anyway—if the water was toxic I was screwed. I fleetingly wondered if I would glow in the dark if I survived this, and tried to focus on the noise that seemed to be continuing. I lifted my hand out of the water only a second too late to realize that I'd dunked my phone down in the water when my hand last dropped. The screen on my phone was now black and the phone was useless. The noise seemed to be getting louder and steadier, though I still hadn't identified what it was. It wasn't the boiler though—the noise that I hoped I was hearing was coming from outside the boiler room.

I took a deep breath and tried to push myself up to lean against the wall, but I just didn't have the energy.

I heard a loud creaking noise then, and I wanted to open my eyes to see if the boiler was going to explode, but I just didn't have the energy. I was too exhausted and my eyelids felt like I had weights on them. I couldn't have moved or opened my eyes if my life had depended on it—which it did. Realizing that this was, in fact, how I would go out, I let out a soft sigh. The creaking noise was suddenly ear splitting and then it stopped. A wave of cold washed over me and I shivered uncontrollably, noticing that the water was receding. I tried to force my eyes open, but couldn't. I was exhausted.

The last thing I heard before everything drifted away was the sound of Gibbs' frantic voice echoing in my ears.

xxx

I could hear a weird beeping noise. It was niggling at my consciousness and really becoming quite annoyed. I was comfortable and warm and didn't want to come out of the gentle, relaxing blackness that I'd been in. I didn't know how long I'd been out, didn't know where I was, didn't know what had happened. I slowly inhaled through my nose and the smell of coffee reassured me to the fact that I was not alone.

"…'th me Tony? Can you hear me?"

I think I groaned. I'm not sure. The blackness crept back in and I slept again.

xxx

The next time awareness came back, the beeping was gone. Cold hands were touching me, poking me, moving me around. I felt like shit. I hurt all over. What the hell had happened? An instant after this thought drifted through my brain, memories of what happened slammed back into me with such force that my eyes popped right open.

"Hey, hey easy," Gibbs was standing right over me. There was a woman on my other side, someone I didn't recognize. I tried to move my arm, but it was restrained—I quickly realized it was in a sling. My head was splitting—had I hit it on something?—and I was dreadfully thirsty.

"Christ you scared me," Gibbs whispered, relief bleeding through his tone. "Are you thirsty?"

I nodded my head carefully, scared to move it too much.

Gibbs looked at the woman. "Can I give him some water?" he asked. His voice was soft—softer than normal, and he looked scared. Well. As scared as Gibbs ever looks.

The nurse nodded and Gibbs reached over and picked up a cup with water in it and a straw from the rollaway table. "Here we go," Gibbs said lightly, forcing a gentle smile to his face. "Small sips ok? Don't want you to get sick again."

Again? I took a sip of water and my throat felt strangely raw—the way it gets after I throw up. When had I thrown up? How long had I been asleep?

The nurse said she'd be back to check on me in a while and to let her know if I needed anything. Gibbs thanked her and she left. Then he turned to look at me. "You scared me," he said again, his tone a bit harder this time.

I realized that Dale's orders to not speak were still in effect. I schooled my features into the best expression of "sorry" that I could manage.

"What the hell happened? How did you get locked in the boiler room?"

I felt sick, recalling how I'd tried to be helpful when I figured out the boiler was flooding. I remembered the crazy look in Dale's eyes when he'd realized the power he had over me. I shuddered at the memory of being left in the dark sub-basement to die. He'd left me…the irony of the case we'd just worked—with the woman who was buried alive—I was buried alive in the sub-basement of my own apartment building…I swallowed hard and Gibbs shook my good shoulder.

"Hey you with me? You ok? Talk to me," he said, and I immediately felt the effect of the contradicting orders. I must have gotten a sick look on my face, because Gibbs caught on quickly. "Were you given orders to not talk?" I nodded. He sighed. "You can talk any time you want or need to," he told me patiently, and ran a hand through my hair. "You're released from your earlier commands." I sighed then, relief washing over me.

"Sorry," I whispered. "Didn't…didn't meant to."

"Well, knowing you were told not to speak makes a lot more sense than anything else I've been told today," Gibbs grumbled. He looked away, and I reached out and touched his hand. He looked at me sadly. "Your building superintendent…he said he didn't know how anyone could have gotten locked in there," Gibbs told me. "But you and he had a confrontation, didn't you?" I nodded. "And he probably told you to shut up, didn't he?" I nodded again, suddenly tired. I remembered this feeling from once before…in Baltimore, I'd felt this way after being told not to jump off the bridge by Gibbs. It seemed I was always being given contradicting orders.

"Told me…couldn't talk…couldn't bang…couldn't leave…locked me in…" I looked sadly at him. "I was trying to help him," I whispered.

"Well he's going to get some help, alright," Gibbs muttered, his tone murderous. "I'm going to help him right into a prison cell for attempted murder."

"Gibbs," dammit I sounded so…weak. "Gibbs don't," I pleaded. "They'll just drag me through the mud, and the press will be involved, and I'll never be able to work safely as an agent ever again," I said, my voice fading down to a whisper by the time I finished.

He knew I was right. It pissed him off, but he knew I was right. "Let me do some digging," Gibbs said. "I'll find something, don't worry. And then I'll get Fornell to make it stick. I'll even let him have all the credit for it, so that it doesn't look like we're involved."

I nodded. I could live with that. Gibbs leaned over and kissed me softly. "I was so scared," he told me again. I knew it must have really made an impression on him. You didn't show up for work…and then you didn't answer your phone…and then I went to your place and your car was there and your door was locked, and I couldn't figure out where you were. But I knew…could feel it in my gut…that something wasn't right."

"How'd you find me?" I blinked hard, trying to stay awake.

"I got IT to trace your cell phone. They've got this new kid working down there…smart guy…name's Tim McGee. He was able to trace your phone. I knew you were in the building somewhere. So I found your building super. Told him who I was and who I was looking for. He looked kinda uncomfortable, so I…erm…convinced him to show me where you were. I threatened to go through every door and every apartment in the building," he added sheepishly.

I smiled, knowing that he wasn't lying. "My hero," I whispered.

"Your hero who took hours to find you," Gibbs muttered. "How long had you been in there?"

"What time did you find me?"

"Nearly eleven."

"Mmmh…since…bout four."

"You were in there seven hours?"

I shrugged, then winced. I didn't know. Didn't care. I wasn't in there now and my shoulder was hurting. "Thought…thought I was gonna die there," I whispered. "Kinda…'ronic…I mean…think of the last case we had…buried alive… I nearly was too…I nearly drowned in a basement…nearly burned up on the coldest day of the year," I giggled and it broke off in a chuckle. Christ I felt like shit.

"Only you," Gibbs said affectionately. "You were sprawled out on the floor…your eyes were fluttering, but you wouldn't wake up…thought I was too late."

I shook my head and closed my eyes. "Not too late," I murmured. I squeezed his hand—to reassure him as much as to reassure me. "'s wrong with me? Feel…like crap," I whispered.

"Heat exhaustion," Gibbs said. "You were in there for hours, and the temperature had risen to well over 100 degrees…you're pretty dehydrated too, so they're giving you lots of fluids. Not sure what happened to your shoulder yet, but it's looking like you've somehow strained it where it was dislocated earlier."

"Told me…hadda keep mopping the mess," I said. "Hurt…hurt so bad…couldn't stop…tried to text you…couldn't…out of service…"

"You were in a reinforced steel box," Gibbs said. "Damn wonder that McGee kid could trace you."

"Mmmm," I hummed my assent.

I smiled slightly when I felt Gibbs' lips on my forehead and then on my lips. "Get some sleep," he told me, and I felt the wave of the order wash over me. With a quiet sigh I drifted away. "We'll talk more when you wake up," was the last thing I heard.

xxx

I crossed my arms and set my jaw. I'll admit it. I was pissed. I'd been released from the hospital the day before—after spending two and a half days there—not my fault I spiked a damn fever. Anyway, once I got out of the hospital, I begged to return to my apartment, but Gibbs refused. He didn't order me to go to his home with him (he knows better than to do that—he knows I'd leave and not look back), but he didn't drive me to my apartment, instead he stubbornly pointed the car in the direction of Alexandria and headed for his own house.

And really, he went out of his way to make sure I was comfortable and that I had everything I needed. I was still kinda sick, and really exhausted, and didn't have any energy, and I'm not entirely sure how I would have made it up the flight of stairs at my apartment…but dammit I wanted to go home.

"Gibbs—dammit JETHRO!" I hollered when he walked away. He brought me here, not where I asked to be taken, disrespected my wishes, and ignored my requests and he brought me to HIS HOME and then he fuckin' walks away and leaves me sitting here—"JETHRO DAMMIT GET YOUR ASS BACK IN HERE AND FUCKING TALK TO ME!" I yelled. Oh boy I was mad. I was pushing myself up off the couch—his really comfortable couch (dammit)—when Gibbs stalked back to the doorway and leaned against it. He crossed his arms, poker face firmly set on his features, and he didn't say a word.

"You can take me home or I can call a cab," I said. "I want to go HOME. This?" I looked around. "This is not my home Jethro! I don't live here! I want to be able to watch tv and sleep in my bed and lay on my couch and take a shower and—"

"And be murdered by your building superintendent who's on some crazy power trip because you can be controlled so easily?"

Oh I didn't like the way he said that. My anger quadrupled. "FUCK YOU!" I shouted. Part of me thought I was overreacting, but I HATE feeling powerless. "If you think I'm so easy to control—if you think I'm such a fucking threat because I'm so easily persuaded—why the HELL did you hire me in the first place? Can't say you didn't know because sure as hell you knew—you're the one who kept me from jumping off the fucking bridge in Baltimore—but then again maybe we'd all be better off if you'd gotten stuck at the red light that day," I snapped angrily. How dare he say that to me?!

Gibbs was right in my face in under two seconds—and so close in my space that I let out a startled "eep!" in response to it. "I never said you were a threat," his voice was dangerously low. I braced myself for the shitstorm that was about to hit. "I never said you were easy to control. I never. said. you were easily persuaded. YOU said those things. Not me. So whatever it is you're internalizing about yourself, don't push that shit off on me," he growled. "And I can't even believe you'd say such a thing about the bridge incident." An incident—that's what he calls it. I snorted. "I saved you because I saw everything that is GOOD in you. And you've not proven me wrong—not in two years! You're the best agent I've ever worked with—the smartest, the best detective, the quirkiest, the funniest—you keep things light, but you know when to be serious—you do your job and carried the load of three agents when it was just you and me. So don't start this shit about how I'd be better off if I'd let you jump. You're the best thing that's happened to me since—"

And then he stopped. His face actually drained of color and he took a step back. "I need coffee," he muttered.

He started to turn and I grabbed his arm. "Oh no," I snarled, still angry. "You're not walking away from me til we finish this."

Gibbs stopped and turned. He looked at me, cool as a cucumber. "Finish it," was all he said.

There was no fight in him. The anger was gone, and I couldn't figure out what it had been replaced with, but it was…weariness? Something?

"What do you want from me?" I asked, shrugging my one good arm.

"I want you to be safe. I want you to not be a bonehead. I want you to be happy." I blinked, surprised. Ok this is NOT what I expected. Gibbs took a step closer to me. "What do YOU want?" he asked.

I swallowed hard. "I want to go home," I said in a small voice. "I don't like…I don't like feeling like I have no power. I get controlled by people without them even realizing it happens…it's exhausting…and sometimes…sometimes I just want to make a request of someone, and I want them to respect it. Even if it isn't the best choice." I shrugged again. I was exhausted, but I refused to sit down. I would not appear weak in front of him. I wouldn't do it.

Gibbs noticed though. "Can we sit down and discuss this?" he asked, gesturing the couch with his head. He was being careful not to say anything that my body would mistake as an order. I sank down on the cushions and stared at my lap, waiting to hear what he had to say. "I would like to give you some more information," Gibbs said after a long pause. "Something I haven't mentioned to you."

"What's that?" I asked.

"Do you remember when you were in the hospital, and I told you that I was going to do some digging on the superintendent at your apartment building?"

"Yes," I said softly. I looked up at him. "What'd you find?"

"I didn't find anything. I have a source who found something…it's been turned over to the FBI and a warrant has been issued for Dale's arrest. They're going to your apartment building…right about now…to pick him up and take him in."

Realization dawned and I felt like I'd been kicked in the gut. "Why didn't you just tell me?" I asked.

"Plausible deniability," Gibbs said. "Same reason I'm not telling you what the charges are."

"That's why you were so insistent that I come here," I said.

"Yes," Gibbs said.

"You didn't have to be such a bastard about it," I retorted.

"Second B for bastard," Gibbs said by way of explanation.

"I think I hate you a little bit," I grumbled.

Gibbs wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close, being mindful of my wounded shoulder. "I think I love you a lot," he whispered in my ear, before nibbling on my earlobe.

I pulled away. "Ohhhh no Mister, you're still in the doghouse," I said.

Gibbs leaned over and kissed me again. "I just can't help myself," he said after I'd kissed him back. Then he sat up and looked at me seriously. "I don't apologize for much Tony, but I will apologize for making you feel like you were powerless. That was never my intention. My intention was, and always will be, to keep you safe."

I nodded. "I get that," I said. "I just wish…just…next time don't ignore me—tell me a half truth if you have to, but don't just ignore me. Can you do that?"

"I can do that. Can you try to trust me a little bit? I'm not like those other people Tony. I won't ever hurt you."

I laid my head on his shoulder. I was still mad, but at least now I understood the situation. "I'll try," I grumbled. I looked up at him. "Forgive me if it takes some practice? I'm new at this whole, having people in my world I can trust thing."

"I understand that," Gibbs said with a patient smile. I wondered how I'd gotten so lucky. I figured I'd have been told to shut up or jump off a bridge again or something, but Gibbs was trying to make this work, it seemed.

"You know," I said with a snarky grin. "For a guy who's been divorced so many times, you sure are working your ass off to make sure I don't leave you."

Gibbs blinked, a surprised look coming over him as though he never considered that I'd ever consider leaving him. "Um…is it working?" he asked nervously.

"It is," I agreed firmly. Gibbs smiled and kissed me.

"I'm not happy," I grumbled.

Gibbs nodded. "I get that."

"And you screwed the pooch when you ignored me. Made me feel like shit."

"I understand that too. I'm sorry Tony."

"Thanks. So back to my original question, only now slightly altered. When can I go home?"

Gibbs—my best friend, my best lover, my best partner—rolled his eyes at me. "How bout we have Cowboy steak and a good night's sleep here tonight. It'll give Fornell time to get the mess at your place all cleaned up. I'll take you home tomorrow morning, first thing. What do ya say?"

I smiled. "Will you stay with me?"

"I'll stay," Gibbs nodded. "I'll stay right beside you tonight, and I'll stay with you tomorrow if you like. As long as you want me," he promised.

I nodded. "I like that," I agreed. I yawned deeply. "Damn this heat exhaustion…Gonna be the death of me," I muttered. "You'd think I had the plague or something."

Gibbs smiled and helped me ease down on the couch and covered me with the afghan that hung over the back—quite possibly the softest blanket I'd ever encountered. I was still trying to get out of Gibbs who made it. "Wanna take a nap?" he asked me. "Got some time before dinner." I yawned and nodded.

Just as I was dozing off a head slap rocked my head forward slightly and I cracked one eye open. "Oh and Tony," Gibbs said snarkily. "As unlucky as you are, I'd never even joke about having the plague if I were you."

I think I was still giggling when I fell asleep.

TBC…


	5. Moby Dick

**Author's Note**: **Spoilers for towards the end of Season 1, specifically the Bete Noire and Reveille.** I'm dinking with the timeline again though, so events may not happen exactly as they did on the show. And I might have tweaked the events…a lot… O:)

_Thanks as always to my wonderful beta, Gotgoats for all your help. You are amazing! :) _

**Compelled  
****Chapter 5: Moby Dick**

It was bound to happen sooner or later. Gibbs is the type of man that…well let's just say he's passionate. And when passionate people get their toes stepped on…bad things start to happen. Now, in his defense, no one was expecting for a dead body to arrive down in the autopsy lab. And it wasn't Gibbs' fault that the psycho ended up shooting him in the shoulder. We finally got him all patched up and he was resting in his hospital room, drugged to the gills, grumbling and groaning in his sleep about catching the "slimy bastard," and on and on…I was sitting with him—almost sitting ON him to keep him in the damn bed—and he looked at me, about 3am, with an expression I've never seen from him before. It was anger, mixed with fear, mixed with hatred and loathing…and it was directed right at me.

"Get out of here," he said, his voice rough from the breathing tube they'd inserted for surgery. My eyes widened at the sudden and unexpected order. And I'd been given orders from Director Morrow to stay with Gibbs and not to let him out of my sight. "Go home," he told me.

I felt kicked in the stomach…totally completely rejected…I didn't know what to do, but I felt the familiar sensation of conflicting orders washing over me. "Gibbs," I whispered.

He pushed himself up in bed and glared at me. I'd seen that glare a hundred times if I'd seen it once—but never—not EVER—directed at me. "Get. The fuck. Out. I don't want to see you. I don't want to talk to you. I don't want you hovering over my bed like some lost puppy. Go home."

My body was moving before my brain realized it. I pulled out my phone, and called Ducky. It was the middle of the night and I hated to wake him—he'd been in autopsy with Mr. Psycho today too, but…Ducky has known Gibbs longer than anybody I knew, and he knew about me and him, so…

"Er hello? Anthony? Dear boy it's…3:07 in the morning. Is everything alright?"

"Ducky I'm sorry to wake you…everything's all wrong…I don't know what to do! Gibbs sent me home, but Morrow told me to stay…I don't…I need help," I said pitifully, cursing my weakness.

"Oh dear," Ducky said, sounding instantly more awake. "Well…are there Marines posted outside of Jethro's door?"

"At his room and at the elevators and stairs," I told him.

"It wouldn't hurt you to get some rest my boy," Ducky said. "I'll come and try to talk some sense into Jethro."

"So I should just go home?"

"As your doctor I am telling you to go home and rest," Ducky said gently.

"It's hard Ducky," I said, the discomfort of the conflicting orders rising in me.

"You are released from your previous orders," Ducky said and I felt relief wash over me. "Go home and rest Tony. Come back in the morning."

xxx

The next morning I showed back up at the hospital right after breakfast, as per Ducky's orders. It's strange to me…there are people in the world whose orders I can follow to the ends of the earth and never feel strange or threatened by it. People like Gibbs and Ducky. Even Abby sometimes. There are other people who can give the simplest of orders and my body instantly starts trying to not follow them. People like my father and Robby…so this was new to me—to be dreading seeing Gibbs. He made me feel something last night that he hadn't ever made me feel before.

Fear.

I'd never been scared of Gibbs before. Not ever. I'd only ever felt completely safe with him. I wondered about him now, was wary of him. Had he been living a lie all this time? Memories of Robby filled my mind and I was nervous about returning to the hospital. I felt uneasy being around Gibbs. I didn't understand why he'd said what he did last night, but it had cut me deeply and I was feeling a bit more vulnerable with him than usual.

I reluctantly pulled my car into the parking lot and parked it. I took a deep breath and did what Ducky had told me to do. I went back. Ducky was in the room with Gibbs, who looked much better this morning than he had the night before. His coloring was better and he didn't look so old and tired.

"Hey babe," Gibbs said pleasantly as I walked in the room, and I froze, surprised. What the hell?

"Um…hi," I said uncomfortably. I needed out of there. Now. This was too weird. Pod-Gibbs had taken over and he was being _nice_. "I'm gonna um…I need coffee," I said. "Anybody want anything?"

"No thank you Anthony," Ducky said.

"Doc said I can't have anything but apple juice," Gibbs grumbled. "Hate that shit."

I nodded and left in a hurry. What was Gibbs doing? What game was he playing? What the hell what up with this? I didn't like it one bit. I bought myself a cup of coffee and then even took the time to drink it in the cafeteria—insuring that I actually managed to swallow it—before slowly making my way back up to Gibbs' room. After all, Ducky only said I had to come back. He didn't say how long I had to stay. With his orders complete now, I was a free man again, so to speak. I headed back up the hall toward Gibbs' room and stopped outside the door, bracing myself for what was to come. I had to ask about this. I had to know.

I went back into Gibbs' hospital room, only to find that he'd dozed off. Ducky was still sitting with him, flipping through one of the medical journals that he'd borrowed from the nurse's station. "Ducky?" I asked softly.

"Yes Tony?"

"Is Gibbs…is he?"

"Let us step out into the hallway so we don't wake him," Ducky suggested, leaving me no room for argument.

I followed him into the hall and waited for him to shut the door before I spoke. "What's with him? He's different?"

"I think what you saw last night was a reaction from the painkillers Jethro was given, combined with the stress and adrenaline from the day. I looked over his chart—they had to give him enough medication to tranquilize a horse last night. He was very worked up."

I slid down the wall, still confused. "He told me to go away," I croaked. "Told me to get the fuck out that he didn't want to see me or talk to me again…I don't…I mean…" I sniffled hard and took a deep, shuddery breath. "Did I do something wrong?" my voice was just barely a whisper.

"Absolutely not," Ducky insisted. I wished his confidence made me feel better. "You've done nothing but be supportive. I will watch Jethro carefully over the next hours to gauge his reactions to the various medications that he's being given. Are you going to stay here with us or are you going to go to NCIS?"

"I don't know," I said, running my fingers through my hair. "I don't know what I am supposed to do." I kind of felt like I was about to lose it. I felt like I could fly apart at any moment.

Ducky put his hands gently on my shoulders and waited for me to meet his gaze. "What does your gut tell you?"

"I don't know," I moaned, but I was lying and Ducky knew it.

"What does your gut tell you Anthony?" he asked me again.

"It tells me to run," I whispered. "To get as far the hell away from Gibbs as I can. It tells me I can't trust him anymore and that I've been believing a lie all this time…I…Ducky I have to go," I whispered. I looked up at him pleadingly. "Will you help me?"

"Help you what?"

"Help me run…I don't know where I'm going to go but I have to get away."

Ducky looked uncomfortable and concerned. "Anthony, perhaps you would consider instead, taking some time and space and thinking about where you would go and what you would do. I think that Jethro's behavior was the reaction to the medications—he's generally quite snarly after taking medications of this nature. I can assure you that he didn't intend to hurt you, and I truly believe that he really cares for you and wants what is best for you. Judging by his behavior this morning I'd wager that he doesn't even remember what happened last night. Perhaps we should speak to him about it?"

"NO!" I caught myself and forced myself to calm down. "No Ducky," I pleaded. "I…I can't…if he meant it…I don't need to hear it twice…"

Ducky nodded in understanding. "I would recommend taking some time before you make any rash decisions. And I would highly recommend talking to Jethro."

"Yeah," I mumbled. I pushed myself to my feet. "Tell Gibbs…I don't care what you tell him. I'm getting out of here. See ya Ducky."

"Goodbye Anthony," Ducky said with a sad smile.

xxx

Later that evening my phone rang. I was sitting in my apartment, well into my fifth of vodka, and I stared at the cell phone blearily, trying to read the numbers and names on the screen. Gibbs. Shit. I considered not answering, but I knew he'd only keep calling until I did.

"H'lo," I said, my voice resigned.

"I need to talk to you. Are you at home?"

"Yeah 'mat home," I realized my voice was slurring. I wondered if Gibbs noticed.

"Are you drinking?"

"Mmmm yeah," I said blissfully. "'s good."

"I'll be there in five minutes."

"Kay…" I murmured. I took another swig of vodka and hung up the phone. Then I stared at the phone—I HUNG UP ON GIBBS! I began giggling, amused that I'd finally gotten one up on the bastard.

A moment later—had it really been five minutes?—there was a buzz on my intercom. I rolled to my feet and wobbled dangerously. I giggled at myself and walked over to the buzzer. I didn't say anything, just buzzed the door open to let him in. A moment later, there was a loud and demanding knock on my door. I swung the door open and propped myself in the doorway. "Sup Gibbs," I slurred.

Gibbs burst into my apartment and Ducky followed behind him. "Hi Ducky!"

"Good afternoon Anthony," Ducky said pleasantly.

Gibbs slammed the door and nearly caught my fingers in it. "What the hell are you doing?!" he snarled at me. I'd seen Gibbs snarl lots of times, but never at me.

I felt myself sobering instantly. "Could ask you the same question," I said coolly.

"There is an assailant—a known and wanted _terrorist_—at large! Targeting OUR TEAM! And you're what? You're drinking? Getting sloshed in the middle of the day? The hell are you thinking Tony?"

I narrowed my eyes. "How dare you?" I kept my voice low and even. "How dare you come to MY house—MY HOUSE—and talk to me like I'm some incompetent child?"

"You're acting like an incompetent child! You're acting SUICIDAL! You might as well hang a bulls-eye on your back and a sign on your forehead that says 'Here I Am!'" Gibbs shook his head. His arm was still in his sling. I wondered if they'd shot him up with more drugs before they turned him loose or if this was the Gibbs who'd been hiding behind the sweet man I loved so much all this time.

"Get out," I said. My voice sounded flat, even to me. "Get the fuck out of my house."

"You're not listening to me!" Gibbs roared. "YOU NEED TO HEAR WHAT I AM SAYING TO YOU! HE WANTS TO KILL US! MAKE US DEAD! CAN YOU COMPREHEND THAT?! Or are you too drunk?" His voice dropped suddenly in volume and there was—seriously?!—disdain in his voice.

"Oh you are one to talk you sonofabitch," I snapped back. "Sipping bourbon down in your basement like a baby with a sippy cup. Fuck you for coming in my house and for telling me how to live MY life. Get out of here. Just go."

"NO! Not until you hear me!"

"Jethro—" Ducky cut in. "Perhaps Anthony would be more receptive if he wasn't feeling so attacked."

"Stay outta this Duck," Gibbs snapped.

Fury washed over me. "Don't talk to Ducky like that. He hasn't done anything but drive your cranky ass around. He's put up with your shit all day long! He deserves a medal, not for you to talk to him like that!"

"You don't even know what you're talking about," Gibbs snapped. He picked up my vodka bottle and held it up. He had a bitterness about him, a sadistic evil side that I hadn't ever seen before. "You drink all of this today?" he asked me tauntingly. I didn't answer. He turned to me then and his eyes narrowed. He stepped right up in my space and it was all I could do to not back away. "Answer me," he said, his voice so low I almost didn't hear him.

"No," I whispered, feeling the command wash over me. "I didn't drink all of it today. Why are you being like this?"

"You don't get to question me," Gibbs snapped. He slammed the bottle down and I winced. "I TOOK A BULLET YESTERDAY! Or did you forget? You fucking disappeared out of my damn hospital room without even saying goodbye—and you did it TWICE! But I guess you had to hurry home to your bottle so you could top off your day. Don't worry about me—don't worry about your PARTNER who got SHOT in the middle of a government building yesterday. I'm FINE. Really. Just great. Thanks for asking."

"Wait. Wait," I said. Anger was washing over me, but confusion was mixing with it. What was going on? Why was Gibbs so angry with me? "You told me to leave," I said softly. "Last night…I wanted to stay with you and you told me to leave."

"I did not," Gibbs snapped.

"You did! You told me to get the fuck out, that you didn't want to see me and you didn't want to talk to me. Why the hell would you say that? WHAT THE FUCK WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO? I HAD NO CHOICE BUT TO LEAVE YOU WHEN YOU SAID THAT!"

"You should have known better," Gibbs snapped. I was really getting tired of him snapping at me.

Before I could respond, Ducky jumped in again and stepped between us. "That's enough Jethro. Let's sit down and discuss this like adults, shall we?"

"I have nothing to discuss," Gibbs said. He's such a mule-headed bastard sometimes.

"Then you need to shut up and listen to Anthony. Because he would like to speak without having you chew his head off," Ducky said firmly.

To my surprise, Gibbs flopped down on my couch and shut up.

"Much better," Ducky said. He sat down on the couch beside Gibbs. I sat down on my piano bench. "Now Anthony," Ducky said gently. "Can you tell us what happened last night?"

"It was about 3am and I was sitting there with you Gibbs, and you woke up. You seemed kinda out of it and when I tried to talk to you, you got really angry with me. You told me I needed to get the fuck out of your room, and that I needed to go home, and that you didn't want to talk to me anymore. I was given orders by Morrow to not leave your side, so I was torn…you know how I get," I said sullenly, "so I called Ducky and asked what I should do. He released me from both sets of orders and told me that I should go home and get some rest and come back this morning. He came and stayed with you because you told me to leave. I didn't want to leave you," I said softly. "I wanted to be with you and help you. But you…you didn't want me."

Gibbs looked a bit surprised, still a bit annoyed, and he pursed his lips together tightly. "What about this morning?" he asked tightly.

"This morning…" I blew out a hard breath. "This morning I didn't know what you wanted from me," I said. "I didn't know whether you were really glad to see me or if you were still angry with me…this has made me question everything from the last three years Gibbs. Every single thing. I didn't know what to do. I…" I looked down. "I was scared."

"Scared of _what?!_" Gibbs retorted.

"Scared of you," I said quietly. "You were acting so…so cold…so hateful. I didn't know if this was really you or if it was the medicines or what…"

Gibbs snorted. Ducky started to reprimand him for it, but I held out my hand. "No Ducky…it's his reaction. It's ok." I stood up. "Since you won't leave," I said, "and since you aren't willing to listen to me and respect what I have to say, then I will leave."

I picked up my keys and walked out of the house before anyone could say anything else.

xxx

I headed for the park, thinking a walk would calm me down. As I walked along I noticed that I was being followed. My first instinct was to call Gibbs. But with the way Gibbs was acting, he'd likely just tell me it was my own damn fault and then hang up on me. I decided to stay near the road—there'd be more witnesses that way. As I continued down the block, my pursuer caught up to me. I blinked in surprise when I saw that it was a woman—a very pretty woman—who was following me.

"Hello," she said in a heavily accented voice.

"Hi," I said awkwardly. This is just what I didn't need tonight. My luck Gibbs would look out the window and see me walking off with this beauty and then I'd be single for sure. "Nice night," I commented. The night was warm, but not overly so…just about perfect for a day in late August.

We arrived at the street corner and stopped to wait for the light to change. A car pulled up to the light—a dark colored sedan with dark tinted windows. The passenger side window rolled down, even as I took a step back. "Get in the back seat," the driver ordered.

My feet were moving almost instantly and I followed the lovely blond haired woman into the car. This was not good, not safe, I should have listened to Gibbs…should have stayed at the apartment, should have…

"Not a word," the driver said as the lady closed the door. "And you will not try to escape. Understand? You're very useful to me alive right now. It'd suit you better for you to not wear out your welcome."

I nodded, unable to speak. For a moment it made me think of the incident last winter in the boiler room. I sighed and looked out the window. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed the driver nod at the woman sitting beside me. An instant later I felt a sharp stick on the side of my neck just before everything melted away.

"Sleep well Anthony," the driver said sweetly.

xxx

Awareness crept back slowly. My head was pounding and my mouth felt like it was stuffed with an oily rag. Correction. My mouth _was _stuffed with an oily rag. My shoulders hurt, and I quickly determined that was because I was propped in a wooden chair with my arms cinched tightly behind me. I let out a muffled groan at my situation and looked around. It looked like I was in some kind of old barn or something.

There was sunlight creeping through the cracks in the walls. Figuring the sun was setting last I knew, I assumed it was the next day. I wondered if Gibbs had figured out I was missing yet. I wondered if he'd care. I didn't dare hope that he'd come for me.

"Good morning Anthony," I recognized the voice of the driver. He sounded cheerful, almost as though he was glad to see me.

I glared at him.

He tsked. "Now, now, don't be grouchy," he said and I felt my anger fade. He smiled. "Good boy. Now, as I was saying. I would like you to help me."

I didn't respond. There was no reason to. If he wanted me to help him, he obviously knew all he had to do was tell me to do it.

The man held up a syringe. It was filled with clear liquid that looked like it had a pink-ish tint to it. "Do you recognize this drug?"

I shook my head. I didn't see the harm in answering that question.

"Hmm…perhaps if I inject it you will recognize it better," he said slyly. He walked over to where the beautiful woman with blond hair was sitting at the table, reading the newspaper. He jabbed the needle into the back of her arm and she yelped. A moment later her features darkened and she stood up and stalked over to my captor. "What the FUCK is your problem Ari?! Why the hell did you shoot me up with that damn needle! God why don't you just get away from me, yea? I was sittin' here readin' the paper mindin' my own business and you got to go and screw it up!"

I watched in horror as she started ranting and raving—acting just…like…Gibbs…had been acting…I gasped around the gag and my eyes widened. Ari, as I now knew my captor to be named, turned to me and smiled gleefully. "Oh you DO recognize it!" he exclaimed. "Oh I hoped you would! Tell me—how does Gibbs like the effect? I bet he doesn't even realize he's under the effect does he? Here all this time he thought he was being given painkillers!"

I started struggling, trying to get free. I had to warn Gibbs—had to tell him how much danger he was in. I couldn't help but listen as the girl—Marta, I learned—continued to rant and rave at Ari. Her tone was filled with just as much contempt as I'd heard Gibbs spew at me the day before. Finally Ari had enough and he pulled out his gun. A single shot fired and I flinched, unable to help myself. Marta dropped to the ground, chunks of her head missing, and Ari turned to me and smiled, tucking the gun away. "I don't think I've formally introduced myself," he said. I stared up at him, horrified by the way he could murder someone in cold blood that way, and in the next instant could turn and speak to me as though he was discussing the weather. He bowed dramatically and flashed a truly evil smile at me.

"My name is Dr. Ari Haswari."

xxx

Two days later, I found myself dumped out of a car. I stumbled to my feet as the car drove away and I put a shaky hand to my forehead trying to remember what had happened. One thing I knew for certain…Gibbs hadn't come for me. Ari made sure I knew that. Told me over and over again. I looked around, trying to figure out where I was, and I snorted in disbelief when I realized I was in the parking lot for Gibbs' favorite coffee shop.

To my amazement, at that moment, Gibbs himself stepped out of the coffee shop. Anger washed over me. How could he just leave me like that? How could he act like nothing was wrong? Did he not even _notice _that I WAS MISSING?! He was heading for his car, and I tried to call out for him, but couldn't speak. Figures, I thought to myself. I remembered needles, I remembered the smell of animals, I remembered the smell of a dead body after some time. I didn't remember much about what else had happened. That really worried me too.

Gibbs was getting behind the wheel of the car. I figured that meant he wasn't taking painkillers anymore. I ran almost directly out in front of him and he slammed on the brakes. I dropped to my knees, exhausted. I was still angry and feeling betrayed though…I didn't know what to do with those feelings.

The car stopped just inches from me and a car door slammed. "Tony? Oh thank God Tony where the hell have you been? We've been looking everywhere for you!" Gibbs grasped my shoulders and gave me a gentle shake, looking into my face. "Are you ok? Do you need a doctor?"

I shook my head. No I'd had enough doctors to last me a lifetime.

Gibbs narrowed his eyes. "Can you speak?" he asked me gently. I shook my head. He nodded. "Let go of your orders, babe," he said softly.

Relief washed over me as the memories of what happened came back. I must have been told to forget. I remembered Marta, lying dead on the ground right in front of me, and I gagged. Gibbs supported me when I swayed, and I flinched away. I tried to speak again, but found I still couldn't. I looked at Gibbs, frightened. Why couldn't I speak? I raised a shaky hand to my throat. What had that sonofabitch done to me?

"It's ok," Gibbs said soothingly. "Let's get you back to NCIS and we'll have Ducky take a look at you." I shook my head, suddenly fearful. I was terrified—of everything! What the hell was wrong with me? I felt absolutely out of control. Gibbs narrowed his eyes slightly. "If you don't want to see Ducky then I need to call an ambulance or take you to Bethesda. You should be able to talk?"

I pulled away from him then, and he let me go. I think neither of us was sure what to think. I was exhausted—had I even slept in the last—how long was I missing? What had happened? How far away were we? What had he done to me? Why was Gibbs back to being all Gibbs-like? I was so confused, and so exhausted; I felt like I'd gone fifty rounds with a bear. Gibbs was on his phone now, talking to someone—probably Ducky—and keeping an eye on me. He looked like he wanted to make sure I didn't disappear again.

Gibbs closed his phone. "C'mon Tony. Let's go back to your apartment. Ducky's going to meet us there, and the three of us will decide what to do."

I made a scribbling motion with my hand. Gibbs looked confused for only a brief second before he pulled out his notepad and a pen and handed it to me. I began scribbling.

_What day is today?_

_How long have I been missing?_

_The guy who took me's name is Ari Haswari. He's a doctor. I don't know what happened…I don't think he ordered me not to talk, but I don't know why I can't speak?!_

_Your painkillers are tainted—he used the drug on his partner. Then he killed her._

Gibbs read the notes I'd written and looked at me curiously. "You've been missing since two nights ago," he said softly. "I've looked everywhere for you. I've been worried sick."

I stared at him curiously. Ari said that Gibbs hadn't come looking for me at all…did that mean Gibbs was looking in the wrong place? Or did that mean Gibbs was lying to me now? He drove us back to my apartment and a short time after we arrived, Ducky arrived as well. "Well, well, well, my dear boy you have given everyone quite the scare," Ducky tutted as he entered the door.

"He can't talk Duck," Gibbs said. He blew out a breath of frustration. "I tried telling him to talk but he just can't. Dunno what that sonofabitch did to him, but if I ever get the chance I'm going to kill him. He's MINE. Understand? MINE. Tony do you still have the notes you wrote me?" I nodded. "Can you let Ducky see them?"

I nodded and held out the papers for Ducky to see. He read over my chicken-scratch and his eyes widened. "This explains a great deal Jethro," Ducky said. "Your behavior was a bit out of character, despite being on the medication. You are generally not the…sunniest person on painkillers, but this time you were exceptionally…gruff. It makes sense." Ducky turned to me then. "You need to get to Bethesda young man. There is no telling what all was done to you. You may have been drugged."

I sighed. I knew Ducky was right.

"Tony I'll go with you. C'mon babe," Gibbs said gently to me. He touched my arm and I flinched away. Gibbs' lips thinned to a firm line, but he didn't say anything. He stayed close in case I needed him—at least that's why I told myself he stayed close—and a few minutes later I found myself in the Emergency Department at Bethesda's Medical Center.

I was pissed when the ER doctor told Gibbs and Ducky that I had some "unidentified substances" in my system and needed to be admitted. I'll concede the point that I seemed a bit short-tempered, even to me. Something wasn't right, and I was still feeling absolutely terrified. I hadn't mentioned that, but the doctor noticed it. He started checking my vitals and looked at me funny. "Are you feeling anxious Son?" he asks me.

"Well yeah," I snapped sarcastically in my head. Damn not being able to talk. I nodded emphatically.

And that was how I found myself in a private room, with an armed guard on my door, Gibbs at my side, and me stuck in the bed. I didn't mind it so much because I was so exhausted…I fell asleep pretty quick. I was angry enough at Gibbs for not finding me, and angry enough at myself for not getting out of my situation on my own, that I didn't want to be awake where I'd have to think about it. I just wanted to sleep. So I slept.

And slept.

And slept.

And slept.

When I finally woke up, it was in the middle of the night (of course it was) and Gibbs was still with me. He was sound asleep, head rolled to one side, arm still in the sling. I wondered for a moment if his shoulder was hurting him still, and then wondered why I wasn't as angry with him. He hadn't come to find me. He'd left me with the terrorist. The familiar anger washed over me again and I reached out and poked Gibbs. He was awake almost instantly.

"Wha—? You ok?!"

"Why the hell are you still here?" I hissed, pleased that I could speak now. That was a vast improvement over the way things were when I fell asleep.

Gibbs blinked and looked at me with a surprised look on his face. "What is your problem?" he asked me.

"My problem? My _problem _is that you left me with a terrorist!"

"What are you talking about? You went for a walk and never came back! I started looking for you as soon as you went missing!"

"Bullshit," I rolled my eyes.

Gibbs pulled out his cell phone. "Bullshit? That what you're saying to me? Really? Look at this," he pulled up a text message and showed it to me. The message had come to him from my phone. _Agent DiNozzo has been detained._ When had Ari sent that? Then I remembered getting shot up with something in the car. I swallowed hard at the memories that followed.

"Lotta good it did me. You didn't even look for me."

"I didn't loo—how can you say that?! We searched nonstop for two days! No one on the team slept ANY during that time! We tore this town apart looking for you!"

"Shoulda traced the text then, _Boss_," I snapped. "Woulda led you to me."

"We did trace the text _Tony_," Gibbs said in an equally snappish tone. "You wanna know what we found? A dead girl with half her head missing where it had been blown off. You know what that did to me?"

"If you were so concerned you would have found me. You didn't even look—I know!"

"How do you know?"

"BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT ARI TOLD ME!"

Gibbs didn't answer me and it took me only a minute to realize what I'd said. Of course, in the state I had been in, I likely would have believed anything I'd been told. Fear washed over me anew and I trembled uncontrollably. "Boss...Gibbs," I whispered.

He sat on the bed next to me and pulled me close. "I got you," he said.

"What'd he do to me?" I asked pitifully. "I don't…I don't remember…" I raised a hand to my temple, hoping to draw the memories out by touch.

"He drugged you. He manipulated you and ordered you to forget some things. Obviously he knows your secret. It's going to be alright though. I'll keep you safe. He won't hurt you again."

I chuckled tiredly. "Careful Gibbs," I said. "You're starting to remind me of a book I read way back when."

Gibbs snorted. "A book?!" he sputtered. "I didn't think you read books!"

I stuck my tongue out at him. "Bastard," I murmured fondly. "You're reminding me of Captain Ahab in Moby Dick, Gibbs. Be careful. Don't let the big whale drag you down."

"Not gonna let him drag me down," Gibbs said. "Going to keep you safe. At whatever cost necessary."

There was a knock at the hospital door then and we both tensed. Director Morrow stuck his head in. "At ease gentlemen," he said kindly. He shut the door behind him. "We need to talk," he said once he'd sat down. "About Ari Haswari."

"I want the sonofabitch dead," Gibbs snapped without preamble. "He's a threat to me and a threat to my team. He needs to be detained or eliminated. I'd prefer eliminated."

"Not going to happen," Morrow said, shaking his head.

"He drugged me and abducted and did God knows what to Tony!" Gibbs roared. He was very pissed. VERY. Pissed.

"I understand that, and I understand you are upset," Morrow said patiently. "But you don't have the whole story."

"I don't NEED the whole story," Gibbs snarled. I raised my eyebrows, wondering if he'd have a job after this. "He's threatening my fa—my team. It's unacceptable."

"And a reprimand will be placed in his file and he will be placed on a disciplinary plan," Morrow said with finality.

"A repri…Director? What are you saying?" I asked cautiously.

"I'm saying that Dr. Ari Haswari is a double agent. You will not act with force towards him unless he puts your life in danger."

"I understand," I said softly, feeling the order wash over me.

"That'll work with Tony, Tom, but it won't work with me. I want him brought up on charges. He had no reason to target NCIS or to target my team."

"Gibbs you need to let this go. You need to forget about Ari. You aren't going to get to chase this one. Let. It. Go."

Gibbs pushed himself up off the bed and stormed over to the door. "I need coffee," he grumbled, stomping out of the room.

I stared at the door, then looked to the Director after a long moment. He shrugged uncomfortably. "I'm sorry Agent DiNozzo," he said and I really believed him. "I wish it wasn't this way."

"I understand Sir," Tony said with a nod.

"I will stay with you until Agent Gibbs comes back," Morrow said. "Far be it from me to leave you unattended," he chuckled, but Tony could sense the Director's nervousness underneath the folly. At that moment, the director's cell phone rang.

"Gibbs," he answered pleasantly, "what can I do for you?"

xxx

Downstairs in the cafeteria, Gibbs paid for his coffee. He decided to take the stairs back, to give himself the opportunity to work off some of the aggression and adrenaline still in his system. He was deep in thought when suddenly the coffee cup was knocked from his hand. It splattered against the wall, just before Jethro was shoved roughly against it. He winced in pain when his shoulder was wrenched and let out a soft grunt. His eyes widened when he recognized the man standing in front of him.

The same man who'd shot him in the shoulder.

The same man who'd abducted and tortured Tony.

Gibbs snarled and with his good arm, shoved Ari Haswari off of him. "You fucking bastard," he hissed. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"What does it look like I'm doing, Agent Gibbs? Or did you miss the fact that I'm a doctor," Ari said sweetly, a sinister tone underlying his words.

"I don't know what kind of _doctors _specialize in torture," Gibbs snapped.

"This is all very sweet, but if you'll excuse me, Agent Gibbs, I need to go check on my patient and see how he's doing after his…treatments."

Knowing that Ari meant Tony, Gibbs tackled him on the steps. The two wrestled and fought, rolling and kicking, snarling and cussing the whole way. Ari managed to get Gibbs pinned on the steps at one point and when he held up a loaded syringe, Gibbs kicked out desperately, pushing with all of his limbs to get the man away from him. He took only a split second to take a deep breath, knowing the man would be right back on him in an instant. He pulled out his side arm and aimed. Ari smiled.

One shot echoed through the stairwells at Bethesda Medical Center.

Gibbs called the director on the phone and explained what had happened. The director told him to come back to Tony's room and he would go oversee the situation. Gibbs left Ari lying on the landing of the stairwell, halfway between two floors. He picked up his coffee cup and glared at the double agent. "Next time it won't be your damn shoulder," he promised, walking away without looking back.

He passed Director Morrow in the hallway and handed off his gun to him. He had his backup weapon, and everyone knew it. No one would threaten Tony DiNozzo and live to tell about it.

I was nearly frantic when Gibbs stepped into my room. "What the hell happened?! Are you alright? Director Morrow said that you ran into Ari and that…that there were gunshots fired…are you hurt? You're bleeding!"

"Popped a couple of stitches, is all Tony," Gibbs said gently. "I'll get Ducky to fix me up. He should be on his way."

"Did Ari shoot you?" I reached out and grabbed at Gibbs' arm trying to search for a gunshot wound and draw him closer all at the same time.

"No," Gibbs said evenly. "He didn't shoot me."

My eyes widened. "Did you shoot him?"

Gibbs nodded tightly. "He was coming back here. To drug you again. Couldn't let that happen."

"Did you kill him?" I whispered.

Gibbs shook his head. "Don't I wish," he said. "No. I just returned the favor for him. I shot him in the exact place he shot me."

"What are we going to do Gibbs? Why's this guy hate us so much?"

"I don't know what his deal is," Gibbs said. "But I can promise you that he won't hurt us anymore. I'll put another bullet in him if I have to." He stared at me. "And next time, the bullet won't be in his shoulder."

TBC…


	6. Just Keep Breathing

**Author's Note:** **And now…here it is…The Mother Of All Orders**. Brace yourselves! Mild spoilers to lots of things from middle of Season 1 up until Episode 2.22, SWAK. **Major spoilers for SWAK**. I'm dinking with the timeline again, folks. Enjoy!

_Thanks as always to my wonderful beta, and dear friend Gotgoats, for all your help with this story. You are so encouraging to me, I really appreciate it! Love ya!_

**Compelled  
****Chapter 6: Just Keep Breathing**

By the time the director got to the staircase where Gibbs had left Ari, he was gone, leaving a blood stain as the only evidence that he'd even been there. The director and Gibbs worked it out with the doctors so that I could be monitored at Gibbs' house by Ducky and brought back if I had any problems. So I moved out of my room at Bethesda and into the master bedroom at Gibbs' house. That's where all the fun and games ended.

The next few months showed a steady decline in…everything except our case load. I insisted on moving back into my apartment after Ducky declared me to be in good health, much to Gibbs' dismay. He's hinting at wanting me to move in with him, but he hasn't come right out and said it yet. The whole agency suffered the loss of our good friend and fellow agent, Chris Pacci, and I got drugged and kidnapped by a crazy waitress (THAT made Gibbs SO happy). Kinda pissed me off though…I couldn't get the stink of the sewer off of me for days it seemed. We had several little cases here and there and we added Agent Timothy McGee to our ranks on the MCRT. The director could leave us alone now, hopefully. Most of the other teams had four people on them.

We tracked wayward petty officers and sailors, hunted down marines who'd gone missing, and people who thought it smart to mess with the military. I got roped into an international art dealers ring and went undercover with a psycho serial killer—found myself chained to him for days, it was grand, lemme tell ya…That case didn't make Gibbs happy either…Someone threatened Ducky and then Fornell got into some trouble and we looked out for both of them and made sure everyone was safe and the appropriate people were behind bars. It was all quite exciting—Fornell even faked his own death!

The holidays came and went and Gibbs gave me a key to his house—symbolic I know, because he never locks his door, but it was his sweet way of telling me I was always welcome at his house. We'd had some rocky moments surrounding Ari, but the effects of the drugs seemed to be rather short acting, and neither of us were affected by it for too long. Ducky and Gibbs worked to help me remember and rebuilding the fractured memories I had of my time with Ari…

I was worried though. Gibbs couldn't shake his insatiable desire to find and kill Ari. I mean, the guy wasn't on my list of favorite people either, but I didn't necessarily want him dead. Captured? Yes. In custody? Absolutely. Dead? Eh…if the situation called for it, then we do what we gotta do. But it was really becoming a problem for Gibbs…I mean…and this really might be too much information for all of you, heh, we'd be in bed, doing our thing *wink wink* and I'd realize…seriously he would be thinking of Ari. WHILE WE ARE HAVING SEX! SERIOUSLY! I tried talking to him about it, but he shuts me down. He doesn't want to hear it. He doesn't want to hear that he's ruining all of our lives with it. There've been nights when I'll go back by the office to pick something up or drop something off or say hi to the guys working the night shift (because we all have to take turns) and there sits Gibbs, at three in the damn morning, pouring over case files and notes and dossiers and…you get the idea. He's obsessed. And it really was starting to piss me off.

There are times—rarely—that I wish I could push my "gift" off on someone else. Seriously there is nothing in the world that would make me any happier than to be able to look at Gibbs, tell him to forget all about Ari, and have it actually happen. I mean people have it so lucky with me!

I told him I was going to talk to the director about it and he told me to go ahead. That he'd still keep looking for Ari and that if he found him he'd kill him. I mean, Gibbs was really getting kinda crazy here. I mentioned it to Ducky and he just looked at me in that way that Ducky looks at people when he knows he shouldn't be talking about something, and he told me that he trusts Gibbs to make the right decision for him and that I shouldn't worry so much. But he was lying. It's bugging Ducky too. It's bugging everybody except Gibbs. The only thing bugging Gibbs is the fact that he hasn't caught him yet.

This went on for months. Nearly a year. One night, couple weeks ago, he invited me over for dinner for our anniversary. Told me to bring the beer and he'd cook. I love it when Gibbs cooks—he's an amazing cook. He just doesn't tell everybody. So I happily stopped at the gas station and picked up a six pack of Dominion beer, our favorite kind, and headed for Gibbs' house. I was a bit concerned when I got there that I didn't see any lights on. Bit more concerned when I walked in and the kitchen hadn't been touched. Gibbs' sidearm wasn't in the gunsafe like he always puts it when he comes home, and I walked back outside to look, and sure enough, his car wasn't even in the garage. Sonofabitch wasn't home! No matter, I thought to myself. I'll just sit here and wait for him, I told myself. I was missing the big OSU game, but that was ok…Gibbs and our floundering relationship were more important to me than some stupid pre-recorded game on tv.

So I waited for Gibbs to come home.

And I waited.

And I waited.

And at some point I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew Gibbs was standing over me and I nearly jumped out of my skin in surprise.

"What are you doing here Tony?" he asked me softly. He wasn't mad I was there, but seemed more confused.

"What am I…you invited me over for dinner! Where the hell did you go?" I was pissed. It was the middle of the night forgodsakes.

"I was…out," he said tightly. He headed for the kitchen and I was right on my feet behind him, following him every step of the way. Out. OUT?! WHERE THE HELL IS OUT?

"So where'd you go?" I asked again.

Gibbs flipped on the coffee maker and set the file he was holding on the counter. "I had something to look into," he said evasively.

"It's our anniversary," I snapped. "Four years? Or don't you remember? What the hell were you looking into?"

He didn't answer. Which gave me all the answer I needed. I snatched the file off the counter and opened it. Gibbs pinched the bridge of his nose and reached up to get a coffee cup down out of the cabinet. He poured his coffee while I read and the more I read, the angrier I got.

Finally I slammed the file down on the counter and stared at him incredulously. "Seriously?" I was struggling to keep my voice under control. I couldn't remember the last time I'd been so angry. He looked at me, and the bastard shrugged. HE FUCKING. SHRUGGED. "You invited me over…for our _anniversary_…and you were going to cook me dinner…and you got a lead on someone who _MIGHT _have been involved with Ari Haswari _YEARS_ _AGO_…and you…you fucking blew me off for a shaky at best lead on a case you're not even supposed to be working?" I shook my head in disbelief.

"You don't understand Tony. I need to catch this guy. He needs to be gone. Out of our lives—"

"The only thing keeping him in our lives IS YOU!" That's it, control was gone, I was mad. "YOU'RE SO FUCKING OBSESSED WITH THIS GIBBS! SERIOUSLY! I don't even KNOW you anymore! What are ya gonna do…you gonna hunt him down? You gonna kill him in cold blood just because he poked me with a needle and told me some lies? You gonna do it because he shot you in the shoulder? What the fuck Gibbs lots of people hurt us—they try to hurt us because they don't want to go to jail. But do we hunt them all down like we're deranged killers? Who the fuck are you?!"

Gibbs squared his shoulders. "I'm a marine and federal agent. I protect what's mine."

"What's YOURS? What the hell—are you saying you OWN ME? Just because you fucking saved my life doesn't mean you OWN me! We're PARTNERS. That means we work TOGETHER. Or at least that's how I define it. Obviously you play by your own rules so who the fuck knows how you define anything. But I can tell you one thing—your obsession with this man—this is making you just as fucking crazy as HE IS!"

"Tony," Gibbs started in on me then, and he had that placating, I-wished-you'd-understand-better-DiNozzo tone in his voice.

"Don't 'Tony' me Gibbs," I snapped. "You know I'm right. This is out of control. Either forget about Ari or I'm putting in for a transfer."

Gibbs' eyes widened. "You wouldn't—"

"You wanna bet, _Boss?_ It's a bet you'll lose. Forget about him. If he messes with us again, or if the case gets reopened _and assigned to us_ then we'll investigate it. Otherwise LEAVE IT. Or I'm out. I'll go somewhere else and I'll find someone who won't forget our fucking anniversary over some crazy psycho. I swear it's like you're in love with him instead of me."

Realization dawned on him then and it looked like I'd finally gotten through to him. I was too mad though. "I need a break," I said tiredly.

"A break? From what?" Alarm sounded in Gibbs' voice. Good. Bastard.

"A break from us. From all of…all of this," I shrugged and waved my arms around. "I sat here all night. ALL NIGHT waiting for you."

Gibbs took a step towards me. "Tony I…"

"Save it. I'm outta here. Don't call me. I don't wanna come over anymore. I'll see you at work Boss."

And I left.

xxx

It seemed like a good idea at the time. I was mad, Gibbs was crazy, leaving was the best option. But as soon as I got home I realized what I'd done. I'd just dumped, just turned my back on the best thing that ever happened to me. Christ I could be stupid sometimes. I refused to let on like I'd realized it though. If he could be a stubborn bastard, so could I. So I went to work, I played it cool, picked on the probies, had some fun, solved some cases, did my job.

I was miserable.

Gibbs…Gibbs acted like nothing in the world was wrong. He acted like he didn't even _notice _that I had left. He might not have though. He gets so caught up working on his boat and reading, and investigating psychos that he forgets about things. So maybe he didn't even notice as two weeks passed and I didn't call or come by. I sure as hell noticed though. I noticed every single minute of every single day that went by without telling him I loved him, or without hearing the words back from him. I missed the casual touches to my shoulder or my back that he'd give me sometimes, the sweet way he'd kiss me in the stairwell where there were no cameras to get us in trouble. I missed sitting in the basement watching him sand, and I missed…dammit. I missed Gibbs.

But I wasn't going to tell him that.

Couple weeks after everything exploded on our anniversary, I walked into work. I was wearing my power suit, the one I felt my best in, the one I think I looked my best in. I was determined to not have a problem with the fact that Gibbs wasn't missing me. I was moving on. Life was good. I could do this.

Until the mail guy came through.

Gibbs was out getting himself a coffee. I was walking to the fax machine and noticed the envelope sitting on Gibbs' desk. It was face down, but there was obviously a lipstick print on the envelope. I blinked. Who would send Gibbs a SWAK message?! SERIOUSLY! A love note! In the office. I knew it didn't mean that the person worked at NCIS, but still. I continued on to the fax machine and took a deep breath. I was acting like a jealous lover.

Although…I justified myself by telling myself that I'd told Gibbs I wanted a break—NOT that I wanted to "break up." There was a difference. At least in my head. So what the hell? I picked up my fax off the machine and headed back towards my desk. I scooped up the letter off the Boss' desk as I passed by.

Kate looked at me and rolled her eyes. She was dead with a cold, but her sense of humor was thankfully still intact. "That's not for you Tony. It was on Gibbs' desk."

"I think it got dropped there by accident," I said with a snarky grin. The elevator dinged then, and Gibbs stepped back onto the floor. I had to hurry. I ripped open the envelope and gave it a light blow to open it…and got a cloud of dust right in my face.

There are no words to describe the feeling in one's bowels when you blow on an envelope and get a face full of white powder. In this day and age that only means one thing…

"Tony?" I heard Gibbs say my name softly.

"Can I…can I have some water," I croaked.

Kate threw me her bottle of water and I leaned over the trashcan and started dumping it over my head and face. I was frantically trying to remember all the procedures for a situation like this, but damn ya know when ya really need 'em there's that problem with adrenaline stifling thoughts and WHAT THE HELL DO I DO I JUST INHALED GOD KNOWS WHAT?! I tried to stay calm. I heard Gibbs whistle and announce to the floor that an envelope with white powder was just opened and all the agents needed to follow emergency procedures for a bioterrorism threat. Germ warfare. What a great thing. They sealed the building, but since my whole team was close to me when I had my brilliant moment, we were all sent to the decontamination showers.

Goodbye power suit.

Goodbye Italian leather shoes.

Goodbye silk tie.

We scrubbed and scrubbed in the showers, but I couldn't escape the hinky feeling that I was in big trouble. Once we were showered, we were told to report to Ducky's Autopsy lab. Ducky's lab has negative pressure in it, so if there's germs around it squishes them and kills them. I was wondering if there was any way to scrape out my lungs and put the contents somewhere other than inside me. Ducky checked me out and Kate too, since she was standing closest to me when it happened, and since she had a cold. Oh I'd just hate myself forever if I made Kate sick.

Ducky was saying that he believed it would not hurt for us to go to Bethesda and get checked out (the thoughts of that made me shiver, after the last time I was there), when the doors hissed open and two men in haz-mat suits came in. "We're looking for Agent Anthony DiNozzo," one of them said.

I felt sick—and it had nothing to do with the possible germies floating around inside me. "That's me," I said weakly.

"You need to come with us please," the second guy said. "We're going to take you to Bethesda. You are now under quarantine."

I nodded and rose to my feet. I looked at my friends…at Gibbs…and I wondered if I'd ever get to see them again. "Sorry guys," I murmured. I looked at Gibbs, trying to say in a look everything I'd been refusing to admit for the last two weeks. I love you. I miss you. I'm sorry if I put you in danger. I don't think you're all that crazy. Gibbs looked at me and he gave me a slight nod. He got it.

"We'll see you soon, DiNozzo," he said. He looked kind of sick himself. It made me feel a little better. At least, if I died I'd know Gibbs still at least cared a little.

"Wait," Kate's voice came from behind me. She was on her feet. "I was with him, standing right beside him—" she sneezed "—it's possible I'm contaminated too!" She glanced back at Gibbs, who nodded.

"Come with us," the first guy said. "The two of you will be under quarantine for 48 hours."

"Unless you get sick," the second guy chimed in, "them maybe longer."

I looked at Kate. She smiled at me. She didn't really think she was contaminated. I reached out and held her hand as we were led to the hazmat van. We were in this together. Which was good. Because I wasn't sure I'd ever felt quite as alone as I had two minutes before.

xxx

Twenty-four hours later, things looked a lot different. Sometime during the late evening I'd started feeling a bit achy, a bit chilly around the edges. I looked at Kate nervously, and she told me it was likely just my body freaking out because it thought it was sick. Sometime after that I started feeling congested. Coughing a bit. Sweating a bit more, despite the cool room.

This was not good.

Kate tried to keep things light. She told jokes and funny stories and I responded as well as I could in between coughs. I was feeling tired as hell though, so eventually I gave up the charade and just went to bed on one of the cots. I wished they'd given us heavier pajamas to wear, but they said that these were the standard issue for quarantine. I wondered what the newspapers and televisions would have to say about this incident. I looked outside the glass box we were in—really it was like a Tony and Kate sized aquarium—and wondered if Gibbs was there. Thanks to the weird lighting I couldn't tell if anyone was outside or not.

I must have dozed off, because I suddenly was waking up and feeling much worse. I was sweating horribly, and coughing nearly constantly. I felt like I couldn't breathe. The doctor came in around this point, and he looked at me with surprise. "Anthony DiNozzo? How'd you get yourself into this mess?" At first glance I thought it was Ari Haswari. The dark hair and dark eyes were misleading. I quickly realized that the face, though familiar, was not Ari's.

"Brad?" I croaked, and coughed. "Brad Pitt," I huffed out finally.

"The doctor, not the actor, at your service," the doctor said with a cheeky bow.

The football player who'd broken my leg in college, who'd ruined my whole life, who was the reason all my dreams had come to a grinding screeching halt, was the man I had to trust—had to depend on—to save my life now. Who knew the college jock from the rival school was studying to become a doctor?

I groaned and stared at the ceiling. "Universe…twisted place…" I whispered.

"Yeah who knew you'd be smart enough to become a federal agent," he snarked at me with a smile.

"Ha…ha…" I whispered. God I was tired.

"Tell ya what Tony," Pitt said then. "You just rest ok? I'll take care of you." The nurse near my feet waved a piece of paper. I'd already signed all the forms. Keep me alive unless I was brain dead or never going to be able to wake back up. Then unplug me and put me out of my misery. But if there was a chance—even a small one—keep trying. I wasn't ready to die yet. I was only 33 years old.

"K…Kate," I whispered. I needed to know if Kate was ok. "Kate…sick?" I wheezed.

"No," Dr. Pitt said. "No she managed to not get sick."

"Sure?"

"She'd be showing signs of illness by now, if she was going to come down with what you have."

"What…do I…have?" Breathing was getting really difficult.

Pitt looked at me for a long moment, and I swore I could see sympathy in his eyes. He didn't think I'd survive this. I was beginning to agree with him. "You have the pneumonic plague Tony."

I broke off into a coughing fit then, triggered by my surprise. I coughed and coughed and coughed until I finally blacked out.

xxx

There's a certain peace that comes with knowing you're going to die. I mean, I wasn't ready to cash in my chips yet, and I wasn't in a hurry to check out, but damn I was tired. I'd been in quarantine for hours…I didn't know how long. I didn't know what day it was. I didn't know what time it was. I didn't know where Kate was. I was drifting in and out of consciousness, and I thought I heard the door hiss open.

"He's not contagious anymore," a voice declared with authority. I recognized that voice. That was—

"Agent Gibbs you aren't supposed to be in here!"

Gibbs. He'd come. He'd finally gotten in to see me. I knew that he wouldn't lie—if he said I wasn't contagious anymore, then I wasn't.

There was movement and footsteps near my bed, and then Gibbs' cloudy looking face hovered over me. By that point my lips were blue, my eyelids were blue, my fingertips were blue, my toes were blue—every part of me had started turning blue from oxygen deprivation. They had me on oxygen, but it wasn't getting through. My body was filling up with mucous (I know, it's gross, sorry, but at least you didn't have to live through it!) and I was drowning. I was literally gasping for every breath of air I took.

"Tony?" his voice was soft, just barely audible over my gasping and the rushing sound in my ears. "Tony can you hear me?"

I coughed slightly. I was so tired I could barely open my eyes. "H-hear…you…Boss…" I was overjoyed that Gibbs had come. I never felt happier to see him. I didn't want to die alone, and they'd made Kate leave once they figured out she wasn't sick.

"Tony I want you to listen to me," he knelt down a bit so his lips were closer to my ear. I blinked, trying to focus, but it was so hard. I was so tired. "Are you listening?"

I nodded, and coughed again.

"You will not die."

I gasped and coughed harder. I took a shaky breath and felt a sharp tap on the top of my head. I nearly sobbed in relief. "You hear me? You. Will. Not. Die. Got me?"

I looked up at him and he stared at me, willing me to not fight my orders. He knew I couldn't resist…ohhhh I couldn't resist…he's brilliant! But I was so tired. God I was tired. It'd be so much easier to—another sharp tap.

"I g-gotcha…Boss…" I'd do my very best. I'd die trying to follow this one—literally.

I wanted to speak more, but I got cut off by a sharp cough. It hurt. Burned. I was drowning. I would not die. I would not die. I would not die.

Fingers ran lightly through my hair, a comforting gesture that I'd associated with Gibbs since almost the very beginning. His fingers wrapped around my hand, and he put something cold there. Something hard and metallic.

"Might wanna change the number," Gibbs said, and I could tell he was making a weak attempt at humor. "Girls keep calling it looking for Spanky." Spanky was always the name he called me when we were being randy with one another. I clutched the phone tightly and closed my eyes. I would not die, I vowed.

I would. not. die.

xxx

I did not die. I wanted to. I felt like hell for days. I was in the hospital for a month. I couldn't shake the pneumonia. As soon as I was removed from the quarantine unit, Gibbs was by my side and he never left—if he did I slept through it. He stayed with me for days on end in the ICU…every time I opened my eyes he was there, whispering encouragements to me, telling me how much he loved me, and assuring me that things would be better soon. "Just keep breathing," he'd whisper. "Keep breathing."

That was the most difficult task anyone had ever given me. Do you know how hard it is to breathe when your lungs are full?

There was a few days when I was put on a bi-pap machine to give me a chance to get some good rest. I hated the bi-pap. Basically it breathes if I can't. Otherwise I have to breathe around it. There was constant suction on my lungs and throat to clear the phlegm, and antibiotics and painkillers, and decongestants, and holy crap I was drugged to the gills. It was awful.

When it got hard…when I wanted to throw in the towel and call it quits, I could feel the weight of the order on me. _You will not die._ And I'd keep fighting.

Gibbs was amazing. I finally got moved to a regular room about a week and a half after I was declared not-contagious. Took me that long to get out of the ICU. In the regular room, things were a bit better, although still exhausting. There were breathing treatments, physical therapy exercises (it was amazing how quickly my body forgot how to do things like walk and breathe at the same time). There were movie marathons if I was up for it, dinner from a deli if I'd been an especially good boy (they make the best soup ever!) and at night, after everyone had left, Gibbs would sit next to me on the bed. He'd drape his arm around my shoulder and let me prop against him while we watched tv. Gibbs hates watching tv. So I knew he was only doing it for me. Sometimes I'd start coughing, and I'd cough til I threw up. He'd just wipe my face and hold me steady to keep me from keeling over in my own vomit and snot (thanks Boss) and call for a nurse. The suction was mostly gone unless things just got bad—which they did once or twice—but when you're drowning, it's kind of comforting (painful, but comforting) to have your lungs shop-vacced. And through all of that…Gibbs never left my side.

A month after I was admitted to the hospital, I was finally released. It was a cool, damp day in Early April, and I realized I'd missed almost the entire month of March. "No…St. Patty's…party…this year…" I whispered, as we got me situated in the car to head out. I didn't ask where I was going. I didn't care. I just wanted to lie down.

Gibbs smiled and promised me we'd find a St. Patty's party to attend, if he had to throw one himself. I smiled. He was so stupid sometimes. He reached around me to fasten the seat belt and as he stood up I grabbed weakly at his hand and held it.

He gave it a gentle squeeze and looked at me with concern. "Hey…you ok?" he asked me.

"I'm sorry…" I whispered. "Was…horrible…you…I'm sorry."

"You weren't horrible to me Tony. I deserved every bit of it. I was the one who was wrong. I'm sorry I hurt you so badly."

"Almost…died…" My voice was rough and hoarse from all the coughing and hacking I'd done.

"I know you did."

"Almost didn't…get to…tell you," I whispered.

Gibbs leaned down closer so I didn't have to work so hard to talk. "Hey…" He palmed my forehead gently. "We don't have to do this now. It's ok. I know. It's alright. Let's go home."

I shook my head. "I need…tell you…"

"Tell me what Tony?"

"I…love you…" I whispered. I looked up at him. I'd never said the words to him before. He'd said them to me once or twice, but I hadn't been ready to say it then. I was ready now. I'd shout it from the rooftops…if only I could breathe. "I love you," I wheezed.

Gibbs smiled sadly at me and kissed me on the forehead and then on the cheek. "I love you too," he said back, right into my ear. "I love you so much. You scared the shit out of me."

"Scared it…outta me…too," I wheezed.

"Let's go home," Gibbs said. I nodded and closed my eyes. The next time I opened them we were pulling into his driveway. There was the smell of…food? Of some kind…in the car, and I nearly gagged. Gibbs raised his eyebrows. "Ok hang on let's not do that in the car." He all but leapt out of the car.

He opened the door and I wretched the meager contents of my stomach out into his driveway. "Ok," he said, rubbing my shoulders gently and trying to stay out of splatter range. "Ok. It's ok." Ducky arrived not long after we did and he asked Jethro about me throwing up in the driveway. We were struggling to get me to the steps by that point, my energy nearly spent, and my eyes nearly closed completely. Christ I was tired. I wanted to make it though. I didn't want to sleep outside on the sidewalk. The thought that Gibbs wouldn't have let that happen never occurred to me.

"Let me help you Tony," the gentle order whispered in my ears and I leaned into Gibbs before I even realized what I was doing. He scooped me up and carried me up the steps into the house. It occurred to me vaguely, as he laid me on the couch, that I hadn't been here since the night of our anniversary. He covered me with that blanket I love so much (I still didn't know who'd made it) and ran a hand over my head. "He's got a fever again," I heard Gibbs say softly, and I wondered if he was talking about me.

Ducky hovered over me then and gently stuck something in my ear. "Taking your temperature Anthony. Just relax."

Relax. That sounded like a great idea. I let my eyes slide shut.

When I opened them next, I was in the bedroom. The sky outside was dark—had I slept all day?—and Gibbs was on his side next to me, head propped up on one hand, watching me. When I blinked my eyes open he started moving. He hovered over my face—if I'd slept all day why was I still so tired?—and he was saying something. Took me a minute to register that he was asking me if I was thirsty. I nodded. A straw appeared then, and I took a slow sip. Drinking out of straws is hard work when you can't breathe. The taste of grape juice (my favorite!) filled my mouth and I hummed in pleasure and tried to quickly suck down more. He pulled the straw back. "Easy," he said gently. "Don't want you to choke."

"How long…sleeping?" I asked. I was angry that I was already tired again! I'd been awake what, two minutes? Maybe?

"About eight hours," Gibbs said. "We got here around noon. And you went right to sleep. It's just about eight now. Are you hungry?"

Ya know I really wasn't hungry. But I knew that wasn't what he wanted to hear. "A little," I said.

"Alright. You rest. I'll get ya fixed up."

"Need…th'head," I mumbled as my eyes slid shut again. Gibbs hauled me to my feet and we made the never-ending fifteen foot walk to the bathroom. He supported me while I did my business—or I probably would have fallen over—and then we stopped long enough to brush my teeth. By the time we made it back to the bed, Gibbs was nearly supporting all of my weight and I felt like I might die from exhaustion. Still, Gibbs' words rang in my head.

_You will not die._

So I didn't. I slept instead. And I slept for days. I'd wake up long enough for Gibbs to shove some pills down my throat, chase it with some soup (I really hate soup now) and do a breathing treatment. Then I'd be too tired to do anything else, so I'd sleep until the next round. Gibbs didn't seem to mind, and if I woke up he was never far away. If he needed to do something downstairs, we'd both move downstairs. I found out later that Gibbs took a bunch of personal leave time while I was sick…he'd taken the month off—as soon as his report was written on the Lowell Case he was out the door and didn't work any the rest of that month, and he didn't work any in the month after I was released from the hospital. Come to think of it…I'm not sure what Gibbs DID during that second month. I was certainly not entertaining, and there was no way he was working on the boat. Dr. Pitt and Ducky both told him that was not allowed…at least I think they did. Maybe I dreamed it. So I don't know what he did. All I know is that if my eyes opened, Gibbs was usually in sight distance of me.

He literally never let me out of his sight.

xxx

A couple of weeks after I was released from the hospital, Ducky told me I was well enough to return home to continue being sick there.

"I'm sure you'll feel more comfortable in your own bed, Anthony," Ducky said. "It's likely been quite awkward for you these last few days."

Not awkward. Perfect. I found I loved waking up next to Gibbs. I liked being shrouded in the smell of him when I laid in his bed, and I liked feeling him nearby when my eyes opened. Ducky and Abby both knew the nature of our relationship, and they both knew that things had changed drastically in the weeks leading up to my illness.

Gibbs had run out to the store, following orders by Ducky to "get out man, have a moment to yourself. Go to the market and buy groceries or something." He'd promised he'd come straight back. I figured out that Ducky wanted to get me alone so he could make sure I was alright.

"I'm ok Ducky," I told him. "Things here have been fine. Gibbs has taken excellent care of me. Not that I'd notice if he hadn't; I've done nothing but sleep for days.

"Sleep you needed, young man," he tutted. "Don't complain about resting and getting well. We nearly lost you. You nearly died. It was very touch and go for a few days."

I narrowed my eyebrows at that. All the time Gibbs had spent with me, he'd never let on that it was _that _bad. I mean I knew it was serious—I was the one drowning in my own body—but Gibbs hadn't said anything about it other than to be encouraging.

"How close?" I asked.

Ducky looked surprised. "Jethro didn't tell you?" When I shook my head, he shook his also with a look of wonder on his face. "Dr. Pitt gave you a 15% chance of survival, my boy."

I gasped, then slammed a hand against my chest when it hurt. Had to remember not to do that. "15%? Is that all? Really?"

"You went into respiratory arrest several times," Ducky told me and I leaned back against the couch cushions, flabbergasted. I didn't remember that at all.

"Gibbs never told me that," I said. "I had no idea. All he did was keep telling me it was going to be ok and I had to keep breathing. He told me I would not die, so I didn't."

"He…" Ducky's voice trailed off. At that moment, Gibbs burst back into the house, arms laden with shopping bags filled with food—lots of my favorites, too, I noticed.

"What?" Gibbs asked when we both looked at him. "I step in something?"

"You never told me," I said softly, still in shock at just how close I'd come to dying.

"Told you what?" he didn't seem nervous. He didn't seem upset. Weird.

"You never told me how close I was to dying," I said.

"I didn't figure that you needed that right then," Gibbs said. "I wanted you focused on getting well. So we focused on you getting well. And you have."

"Yeah," I said softly. I understood that. It made sense. "I had a 15% chance of survival though, Gibbs," I said.

Gibbs put the bags in the floor. "No. You had a 100% chance of survival. The doctors were only willing to predict 15%. But they don't know you like I do." He winked at me.

"You knew I wouldn't be able to resist your order," I accused good naturedly.

He shrugged shamelessly. "Kept you alive, didn't it?"

"Yeah," I whispered. I looked at him. "Thank you," I said softly.

He leaned over and kissed me gently. "Thank YOU," he said. "I can't do this without you."

"Well the good news is you won't have to. The bad news is Ducky says our slumber party is over and I have to go back to my house to be sick there now."

"I said you _could. _ I never said you must."

Gibbs moved over to where I was reclined on the couch and took my hand. "I have to ask you something," he said, and I could tell that he was being absolutely serious.

"Ok," I said nervously.

"I know we've had it rough…we've had some…bad moments…" Gibbs said uneasily, and I couldn't help but smile at him. He was trying so hard to be poetic…and poetic just doesn't suit him. "We've been through some shit," Gibbs finally said firmly. "And I've screwed up. And I know I have. But I'm asking you to forgive me. And I'd like to ask you to stay here with me. Forever."

"Like…move in?" I couldn't resist giving him a bit of a hard time.

"Yes, like move in," Gibbs said with an exasperated laugh.

"What'll we do about my apartment?" I asked. "I have all that stuff…"

Gibbs raised up and held out his hand to me. "Come with me," he said and then caught himself as I fairly bounced off the couch. "If you want to. Sorry," he said uneasily, and steadied me. "I'd like to show you something."

I took his hand and followed him. We moved slow, because, well, I couldn't move fast, and I was a bit surprised when he led me to the door on the other side of the living room. The door was almost always shut, but now it was cracked. I tried to think back, and it seemed like the few times we'd been downstairs and I was on the couch, that door had been open…

"Gibbs?" I asked softly.

He glanced back at me and smiled. "I maybe…took some liberties," he said sheepishly.

"Just open the door," I said, exasperatedly. I was happy though; I knew that whatever he'd done, he'd done it out of love and with my best interests in mind.

He opened the door and my jaw dropped. "Oh my gosh," I breathed. "Gibbs…you…" I stared, but my gaze was torn between the room and Gibbs. "It's…you…"

"Say something? Please?" He asked me.

The walls, always a deep hunter green color, hadn't been changed. That was maybe the only thing in the room that was the same. I stared lovingly at my couch, the one from my living room in my apartment, sat in the middle of the room. On the wall opposite the couch was my television…my huge television…and in the bookshelves that lined the wall behind my couch my movies. I stepped further into the room, leaning on Gibbs for support, and noticed that not a movie was out of place—he'd mimicked the order I had them in perfectly.

"Come out here," Gibbs said gently, and he tugged me back towards the living room. I was still shocked at what I'd seen. He walked me over to one of the bookshelves and I saw that, just like my movies, he'd moved my books in with great care and were in the exact order I kept them in at my apartment. I was always a bit obsessive about the order things stayed in…my father was known to "borrow" things from me without asking and I'd never see them again…it was a habit I'd learned early on and I carried it with me. Gibbs not only didn't question it, he observed the pattern, respected it was there for a reason, and copied it to perfection.

I stared at him in surprise. "I can't believe you," I breathed.

"Are you up for more?" he asked me. I nodded and together we slowly made our way to the kitchen. His small round kitchen table was gone. In its place was the trendy table from the kitchenette in my apartment and the chairs surrounding it. He opened the cabinets and my dishes replaced his and several of my small kitchen appliances and gadgets were in their new place on his counter and in his drawers.

I sank into a chair and stared around the room. Ducky smiled at Gibbs. "You've been quite busy," he observed.

"I got Kate, Abby and McGee to help me out some. Kate and Abby stayed at your house and packed everything up so nothing would get out of order, and McGee transported everything to me. I worked around your sleeping schedule, unpacking things only while you were asleep, so that it would be a surprise. I've had the den cleaned out for six months—had it cleaned out before I gave you the key at Christmas…but then…with the way things went, I wasn't sure…but after…" he looked at me. "After you got sick…I couldn't stand the thought of you going back to that drafty, beat up old apartment. I know you love it and I know that it's yours. But I was hoping…really hoping, that you'd be able to find a way to make some of my space into your space, and that you'd consider moving in with me."

I looked at Gibbs, utterly shocked by his forward way of doing things. "Putting the cart…before the horse a bit there, Boss," I said. I was smiling though, so I think he knew I wasn't angry. And I wasn't. I was completely shocked, and a bit overwhelmed, but I wasn't angry.

"I hope you don't mind," Gibbs said awkwardly, and he looked at me. Really looked at me, right in my eyes with that piercing expression of his. "I really want to work things out, and I really would like you to come and live here. But if you don't want to, then I'll call up McGee and we'll move it all back today.

"Oh no," I said softly. I coulda cried I was so tired, and so relieved now that I was already home. "I wanna stay here…I don't wanna leave…I wanna be home…here's good," I whispered.

Gibbs smiled and kissed me on top of my head. "Let's get you back to bed then, Tony," he said. "You look like a stiff wind will blow you over."

"Can I…go to my…my couch," I whispered. Talking was becoming increasingly difficult the more tired I became.

Gibbs scooped me up out of the chair and manhandled me towards the hallway. "I've got you," he said. "Just lean on me and we'll get there."

Things weren't perfect between us. We had a LOT of work to do. But for now, as Gibbs helped me onto the couch—my wonderful, soft, leather, comfortable couch—and he leaned over me and kissed me on the forehead. I smiled.

This would do until we could get to perfect. I was happy.

TBC…


	7. At Day's End

**Warning: Tissue warning. MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH**…I know I know I'm evil, but ya know—this one I didn't come up with. That was all CBS lol Do you guys know how hard it is to write the death of one of your favorite characters?  
**Spoilers for Episode: 2.23 Twilght, 3.1 & 3.2 Kill Ari Parts, 1 & 2  
****Author's Note: You know how I love to dink around with the timeline? Yeah I'm doing it again.**

_Thanks to my wonderful beta, Gotgoats, for your help with this chapter._

**Compelled  
****Chapter 7: At Day's End**

The screeching of the alarm was the first sound I heard. I rolled over in bed and slapped the offending clock and let out a tired, muffled groaning yawn. It was amazing to me, that after two months of not working, after all this time doing almost nothing except trying to breathe, that I was still so tired. Christ I felt like I could sleep for a year. The problem was, sleeping didn't make me not tired. I just was tired. All the time. If I got up and made dinner, I was tired afterwards. If I sat up and played a game of cards with Gibbs and Ducky, I was tired afterwards. If I rolled over in bed, I was tired afterwards. Gibbs and I had been slowly building me back up so that I would be fit enough to come back to work. When I say "fit enough" I mean, able to walk from the car to my desk without collapsing, needing a breathing treatment, or needing a nap.

I swear I felt like a toddler. A cranky, sleepy toddler at that.

I let out a sigh, seriously reconsidering the decision that I'd made, when I felt something pounce heavily on the bed—specifically on me. "Oof!" I grunted and the weight shifted off of me. I slowly turned over and was face to face with Gibbs.

"Morning," he said smugly. I noticed he was still in his sleep pants and t-shirt and wondered what time he'd set the alarm for. A glance out the window told me it was still dark. Hell, no wonder I was still tired—it was the middle of the night!

"Morning," I croaked. I'd never been a morning person. That was now accentuated by the fact that I was always tired. Exhausted, even.

Gibbs leaned in and kissed me passionately and I smiled into it. "Got morning breath," I muttered, knowing my mouth probably tasted like a swamp. Gibbs didn't say anything, only kissed me harder. We romped on the bed for a while; he was excited, I was excited, and by the time we were both finished I was ready for another nap. He kissed me and pulled me close and I let out a happy sigh, settling into his chest, ready for a nice, long sleep. "Timeisit," I mumbled tiredly.

Fingers brushed through my hair and I let out a soft hum of pleasure. I love it when he does that. "Just now five," Gibbs said softly. He shifted a bit and fumbled with the clock. "Got time for a nap before work." He smiled down at me.

"Almost like…planned it that way," I mumbled, already dropping off to sleep again.

The fingers were back, and were pushing me steadily into sleep. I felt his lips brush against my hair, and he whispered softly, "I did."

xxx

The elevator dinged and I stepped inside. Gibbs was long gone by the time my alarm went off for the second time that morning. Just as I stepped in, I noticed that someone else stepped in behind me. For a moment I was startled and I turned around, leaning my back against the elevator wall in a nonchalant way. I smiled at Gibbs. "Hey Boss," I said softly. My voice was better than it had been, but still a bit rough around the edges.

"Morning DiNozzo," Gibbs was his usual sunny self in the office. I smiled at the difference in the man at home and the man at work.

I noticed Gibbs was noticing the little smile on my face and he moved to lean against the wall beside me, our shoulders just touching. The elevator doors slid shut and Gibbs took a sip of his coffee. "You sure you're ready for this?" he asked quietly. "Got another week of sick time coming to you if you want it."

"Nah I'm good Boss," I forced a smile to my face. I was going to go insane if I stayed on the couch for another day. "Never better! Besides, you need me. And Kate and McGee are surely missing me by now." The elevator doors opened with a ding and we stepped out into the bullpen. I took a deep breath and smiled. The last time I'd been here was the day I opened the envelope. I greeted everyone warmly, trying to hide the nervousness I was feeling about being here again. It was not a small amount of guilt I was dealing with, having nearly contaminated the entire floor with the pneumonic plague virus. I'd woken up many nights from the throes of a nightmare resulting from that. Gibbs always thought it was because I was dreaming I was drowning—and many nights I was. But some nights I dreamed of Kate or McGee or especially Gibbs having caught the plague. Of them dying. Of it being my fault.

A headslapped rocked me to attention. "Welcome back DiNozzo," Gibbs said. "Grab your gear everybody. Got two dead sailors." I picked up my backpack and hurried after Gibbs. Kate and McGee had caught the elevator ahead of us and as we waited, Gibbs looked at me carefully. "You sure you're alright?" his voice was soft.

I smiled, nervous under the scrutiny. "Fine," I said. "Just remembering the last day I worked, that's all."

Gibbs smiled fondly and nodded. "Don't think about that," he said. "Let's just focus on today. We'll see how you're feeling—but if you start to feel tired you tell me and you will take a rest later, we clear?"

I nodded. "Crystal Boss," I said softly. The elevator dinged and we headed for the truck. We had work to do.

xxx

With the information I'd gathered on the rental car in hand, I headed down the bank towards the car accident that had allegedly claimed the lives of the two sailors whose deaths we were now investigating. Of course I lost my footing and ended up rolling to the bottom of the hill. I slowly sat up and looked around. Kate was standing over me with a smirk. "Did that hurt?" she cooed.

"Yeah," I said. Actually, it really did hurt. A lot.

"Good," Kate said snippily and snapped my picture.

I narrowed my eyes at her wondering who'd put a pin in her shoe this morning and hauled myself up off the ground. Gibbs was standing at the driver's door, peering inside at one of the bodies. Kate was putting a bloodied towel into an evidence bag. I stood up and stretched, smiling when I heard the ME Van arrive. "Sounds like Ducky and the Autopsy Gremlin finally made it," I said.

I looked down, looking for more clues, and saw the small black snake near Kate's feet. I smiled. Kate was so much fun to mess with. I nudged her in the ribs. She looked up from the evidence she was bagging and I pointed at the snake. "I think it's poisonous," I whispered and Kate froze. The snake slithered slightly closer to both of us and I reached down and grabbed it.

"Tony," she fairly squealed. "What are you doing?"

"That's a nice little black snake you got there Tony. Relax Kate," McGee said turning to my partner as he reached the bottom of the hill. "It's not poisonous."

I flung the snake away and glared at the Probie. Shame on him for killing my fun. I mean really, a little joke never hurt anyone. Kate shoved me suddenly, eliciting a surprised yelp from me as I lost my footing and landed on my ass once more. Gibbs was heading back up the hill to talk to Ducky and help him get his equipment to the crime scene. McGee moved around the back of the car and was getting ready to open the trunk to see what was inside, when I saw the wire.

"STOP!" I yelled. I knew the trunk was wired for detonation. I quickly scrambled over to where McGee and Kate were, hoping like hell to stop McGee before he blew us all up. "It's a bomb," I croaked. I put my hand over McGee's, holding the pressure steady. I figured it was likely a pressure activated trigger—once you activate it by turning the key in the lock, it detonates as soon as you let it go. "Run," I said, as firmly as I could.

There was only one thought in my head. I'd endangered them once. They'd all nearly gotten the plague because of me. They'd nearly _died_ because of _me_. So here was my chance to make amends. Here was my chance to make it right. "Run!" I said again, louder this time.

Kate and McGee looked at each other for only a moment before they began scrambling up the hill. I was glad they'd be safe. But now that left me with another problem…I was stuck. I decided there was likely only one shot for me to get out of this. I had to let go of the key at the same moment I jumped as far away from the car as I could. I could hear Kate and McGee screaming at the top of the hill at Gibbs. Gibbs. He was going to kill me for this. Ah well. I hoped this would work. And I hoped that I would live to have him yell at me for this. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath (well, as deep as I could take without hacking up a lung these days), and I jumped.

The explosion was loud and had a lot of force to it. Honestly, more force than I expected—but I wasn't usually standing that close to a bomb when it exploded, either. I was thrown into the hill and my vision grayed for a moment. I figured Gibbs and everyone would figure I was dead, so I quickly started scrambling up the hill. My ribs screamed, my knee was felt like it had been wrenched again (dammit Pitt), and when I finally made it to the top of the hill, I rose shakily to my feet. The crime scene tape was not too high, but I knew I wouldn't be able to step over it.

Gibbs and the team were slowly rising from behind the car where they'd taken cover from the fiery debris that went flying when the car exploded. I could see the concern in Gibbs' eyes and knew I should try to make him feel better.

"Hey Boss," I called, and I suddenly felt very dizzy. I thought I was going to throw up. "Remember when I said…I never felt better…" Nope, not gonna throw up. Gonna pass out. "I lied," I mumbled as my legs collapsed beneath me. The last thought I had in my head as my vision darkened into nothingness was the words of my father: "DiNozzos do not pass out."

The next thing I was aware of was someone calling my name. Sounded far away, and I was very happily floating in this peaceful dark space where nothing hurt. "…ony," the voice said softly. "Can you…me…'ony?" My eyebrows wrinkled of their own volition and I furrowed my brow slightly. I felt a hand on my forehead and heard soft words in my ear. "Wake up DiNozzo." My eyes clicked open before I could protest and awareness rushed in even as I was pushing myself to sit up. Too fast. My vision grayed and then Gibbs was behind me, supporting me as I started to fall backwards. He propped me against his chest and patted my face lightly. "Come on Tony," he murmured. "Snap out of it. Duck is he alright?"

"We should get him back to NCIS," Ducky declared. "I can check him better there. He may have a concussion."

"'m fine," I slurred softly. "'m ok. D'Nozzos don'…passsssout," I whispered.

"Apparently they do," Ducky said. "Jethro do help him up and don't let him fall. Here we go now Tony, nice and easy."

My body felt like it was made of lead. I could barely hold my head up and they wanted me to walk to the truck? Or the car? Or whatever they were going to drive me back in? Seriously? I think I whimpered when I stood up with Gibbs' help, but I can't be sure. I was still pretty out of it. Maybe I knocked my head harder than I realized.

I heard Gibbs talking. "Kate, McGee, wrap things up here and meet me back at NCIS. I'm going with DiNozzo."

Then I was lying on my back on something soft, and a blanket was being draped over me. Was I in an ambulance? "G'bbssss…" I slurred.

A rough hand took mine and squeezed gently. "Right here Tony," he said softly, palming my forehead again. "I've got your six, try and rest."

I tried to push myself up. I didn't wanna lie down, but dizziness washed over me again and Gibbs eased me back down. "You stubborn sonofabitch," he murmured affectionately. "Will ya stay down?"

I blinked weakly at him and smiled. I felt like hell. "Tired," I whispered.

"I know," Gibbs said. "Couldn't have predicted all of this to happen your first day back. Shoulda eased you into it. Shoulda had you riding the desk today."

I shook my head. "McGee…Kate…woulda died," I whispered.

Gibbs smiled down at me. "You saved 'em didn't you?"

"Told 'em to run," I whispered. Gibbs held a bottle of water to my lips and lifted my shoulders enough so I could take a sip. "'s good," I said. Gibbs eased me back down and I felt my eyes sliding shut.

"Don't go to sleep Tony," Gibbs said. "Need to get you checked out first. Stay with me."

"First…tol' me ta rest…now tellin' me ta…stay awake…what gives?" I mumbled sleepily.

"I wanna make sure if you go to sleep that you're gonna wake back up," Gibbs said softly.

"On it…Boss…" I whispered. I blinked weakly as the van rumbled along, sleep threatening to overtake me.

xxx

I could hear Gibbs talking. I could hear Abby talking. They were trying to keep their voices quiet. I slowly sat up and put a hand to my head. It felt like Dumbo had been doing the cha-cha-cha in my head while I slept. Gibbs turned and looked at me. "Ok?" he asked.

"Mmmm," I nodded. I felt like I could sleep for another hundred years to be honest. And my ribs felt like they were going to collapse in and my head felt like it was going to explode. "Fine," I mumbled.

"Uh huh," Gibbs held out his hand and I eyed the small handful of pills warily. "Just tylenol Tony. Nothing to make ya loopy."

I nodded and swallowed the pills dry. Gibbs was collecting lab results from Abby. "Let's go Tony," he said.

Once we got into the elevator, Gibbs hit the emergency stop button. "If I had my way about things, I'd have sent you home already," Gibbs said to me bluntly. My eyebrows raised and he held up a hand to stop me. "Not because I don't think you can handle the case," he continued. "I just want to make sure you're safe. That stunt with the bomb this morning…"

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, knowing I'd scared him.

"You did what you had to do," Gibbs said. "And I guess that's my point…we spent the last two months working so hard to keep you alive and then…this morning…I…you…" he took a shuddering breath and ran a hand over his mouth. "I almost lost you and it scared me," he admitted softly. I had a feeling I might be the only person in the world who would hear those words escape his lips.

"Gibbs," I whispered. He looked like he might be sick. "I'm ok," I said uneasily. It was rare to see him this unsettled, this shaken.

"I know you are," Gibbs said, relief filling his tone. "You did good today. Saved all of us."

I shrugged sheepishly. "Figured it was the least I could do after…"

Gibbs held up a hand in warning. "Don't. What happened before wasn't your fault. It could have been anybody who opened that envelope. Put the blame where it belongs. On Hannah Lowell."

"But—"

"No Tony. Not your fault. Don't beat yourself up over it."

"But you coulda died," I argued. "I could have killed you!"

Gibbs put his hands on my face, holding my cheeks. "Listen to me. It was an accident. You didn't know. Couldn't have known. It's fine. It's over."

"I just—"

"Let it go," Gibbs ordered me gently. I let out a sigh as I felt the guilt leave me, and I nearly stumbled under the relief. Gibbs pulled me into an embrace then, his nose in my hair again and I smiled, hugging him tightly. "Attaboy Tony," he whispered. "You don't need to feel guilty for that. You didn't do anything wrong." I nodded against his chest.

We stayed in the elevator for a while.

xxx

We worked all afternoon. All evening. All night. By the time the sun started up the next morning I thought I might keel over. I sank into the chair at my desk and kicked my feet up on the desk. "I'm just gonna sit here for a minute…til Gibbs gets back," I murmured, but I could already feel sleep pulling me under.

Some undetermined amount of time later I felt, rather than heard, footsteps coming up beside me. My spidey-senses were tingling, but I decided to sit still and see what would happen.

"McGee," Kate hissed. "Leave him alone!"

"Why," McGee scoffed. "We've all been up all night—we're all tired! How come he gets to sleep? Besides, if Gibbs comes back and sees him, he'll—"

"He'll leave him alone—or have you forgotten that Tony is recovering from the dang plague!" Kate snapped. "Leave him alone!"

"McGEE!" Gibbs was near my desk too and I nearly flinched in surprise. I hate it when he walks so damn quietly you can't hear him coming. "What are ya doin?"

That was the question. I was dying to know what McGee's plan for me had been.

"Boss…I was um…uh…"

"Drink the water McGee. I think Tony had his shower already."

I yawned deeply, deciding it was time to be disturbed from my peaceful slumber. I stretched and coughed slightly before slowly blinking my eyes open. I looked up at everyone crowded around my desk and I blinked in confusion and then smiled. "We having a party at my desk?" I asked.

Gibbs looked up to Kate and McGee. "Alright you two. Back to work." Kate went back to her desk and McGee took his bottle of water and headed back to his computer.

I sat up and tried to get my brain engaged in the case at hand…we were certain that Ari was baiting us again…but I couldn't fight down another yawn. God I was tired. I looked around and saw Kate watching me. She stood up and walked over to me, setting a cup down in front of me. "Here," she said softly. "You can have mine. I'll go get some more out of the break room."

We couldn't go to the coffee shop because we were all under protection. Ari had made a direct threat to each of us and the director was taking no chances.

I thanked her quietly and sipped the coffee. I smiled at the taste—she'd made it just the way I like it, not the way she likes it. Almost as though… "You're the best Katie," I said with a smile.

She patted me on the head and took off for the break room. "I know," she said with a knowing smile.

xxx

Unfortunately for us, the federal protection had to be lifted so we could go out and try to track down Ari. There was a missile, heading for the boardwalk at Quantico where the Sailors and their families were reuniting today. We'd gotten the call out to Quantico to start evacuating the boardwalk, but with that many people, and only a few minutes before the missile would land, it was looking like it could turn disastrous in a hurry.

McGee thought he could jam the signal on the detonator, but we had to get him close enough to get a reading on it. There was a huge warehouse, not far from the base where all the sailors were. We headed there. Gibbs told McGee to take cover behind the car while we cleared the warehouse to make sure we weren't going to get sniper-shot or blown up. McGee was hard at work trying to get a bead on the missile so he could jam the signal. I threw him a bullet-resistant vest and told him to put it on. McGee paused long enough to throw it on then went right back to work. Gibbs, Kate and I…well we decided to head inside the building.

What happened next will be carved in my memory until the day I die.

We cleared the building and made our way onto the roof. "They had to know we'd come," Gibbs said softly and Kate and I nodded our agreement. Then Gibbs got this weird smile on his face. "Whatta ya say we let 'em know we're here?" Before either of us could say a word, Gibbs raised his gun straight in the air and fired one shot.

Do you remember the cartoon where Daffy Duck is sitting in the pond? And he's swimming all around talking about how great it is to be a duck because they're so popular with the hunters? And then he wonders where all the hunters are—just before they all pop out of the bushes and start shooting him?

Yeah, we were the sitting ducks in the pond here.

Almost immediately gunfire erupted from the roofs of several buildings surrounding the one we were in. We couldn't see all of them, but the ones we saw we started trying to pick off. Kate and I managed a couple, Gibbs was a crackshot as always and took out everyone he aimed at.

And just as suddenly as it all started, the firing stopped. We glanced around, looking for more snipers. We were missing something.

"It's too quiet Boss," I said, still looking around for any sign of incoming attack.

"SNIPER!" Kate yelled suddenly and dove in front of Gibbs.

"HIT THE DECK!" Gibbs yelled as he and Kate tumbled to the ground.

I hit the ground before I realized what Gibbs had said and watched as Kate took a bullet for him. Kate and Gibbs landed in a solid thump on the ground and I frantically crawled over to them. "Kate? Gibbs? Gibbs!"

"I'm ok DiNozzo," Gibbs grunted as he sat up slowly. He carefully rolled Kate over and looked at her. "Kate? You ok?"

"Owwwwwwwwww," Kate whined. "That hurts, geeeeez." She sat up and Gibbs and I helped her to her feet.

"We're sitting ducks here," I said.

"You're right Tony," Gibbs told me with a glance over his shoulder at me. We were all holding our guns, ready to fire, looking for the sonofabitch who'd nearly taken out Gibbs.

"Wow!" Kate exclaimed. "I thought I'd die before I heard those words come out of your mouth Gi—"

Her words were silenced by a gunshot. The next thing I knew, Kate was falling to the ground, and there was…my face was wet. I stared at Kate. The bullet hole was neat, right in the center of her forehead. There was a puddle of blood and brain matter growing around her, like a halo you see in the paintings of the saints. Only this…oh God…

"Get down Tony," Gibbs said and I dropped to my knees. I watched as Gibbs scouted the area…he was ready to kill someone, you could see it all over his body. He'd pull a trigger and not hesitate.

"Ari," he muttered.

My knees were getting wet. Odd I thought, because it was sunny and not raining. I looked down to see why my knees were getting wet and realized that Kate's blood was now soaking into my pants. I reached out and put my hand on top of her head and felt my lower lip begin to tremble. Oh God…Kate…

Hands were on my shoulders then, pulling me, twisting me around, turning my face away. "Don't look Tony," Gibbs whispered. He cupped my face in his hands and looked me in the eye. "Are you hurt? Did he get you?" He pulled out his handkerchief and started wiping my face, looking for an injury. There was blood on the cloth and I realized that I wasn't bleeding. That blood was from…

"He didn't hurt me Boss," I whispered. "But Kate…he hurt Kate…" I looked up at him and felt my eyes pooling with tears. Never in my life had I ever felt so helpless. "Gibbs…"

"Shhhh," he said and he pulled me close. "I know…I know…" He pulled out his cell phone and hit a button. A moment later he started to speak. I kept my face buried in Gibbs' shirt. I didn't want to look anymore. "Need another team out here," Gibbs was saying and he gave our location. "And…and we need Ducky…we uh…we have an agent down," his voice cracked suspiciously when he said that. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine I was sitting on a warm beach drinking a pina colada…or that I was at home in my bed and this was all a bad dream…or that…I was…anywhere…anywhere but here.

I think I checked out for a while, because the next thing I knew Gibbs was talking again and there was a person standing beside us. "He's exhausted and in shock," Gibbs was saying. I raised my face to see who he was speaking to and looked into the kind eyes of our dear Ducky. It was raining now, and I noticed Gibbs had taken off his jacket and covered Kate's face with it…preserve the evidence…I gagged.

"Hey Tony, look up here. Hey do NOT throw up on this crime scene." My body stopped revolting (thanks Boss). "We gotta get out of here ok?"

"What about Kate?" I whispered.

"Ducky's going to take care of her," Gibbs said quietly. "And I'm going to take care of you. C'mon. We need to get back to NCIS. We need to get you warmed up before you get sick again."

He pulled me to my feet and I swayed a little bit. I glanced around and felt a bit like I was crawling up out of a dark hole. How long had we been sitting like that? Me with my face smushed into Gibbs' shirt and Kate lying there…I shuddered.

Ducky put a blanket around my shoulders. "Get him out of here Jethro," he ordered firmly. "Mr. Palmer and I will take care of dear Caitlyn."

Gibbs started leading me away and I let him. I was too tired to fight him. We got downstairs and McGee was standing by the door. "Boss is Tony alright?" he asked Gibbs. I didn't answer. Gibbs nodded and we kept walking. "McGee stay here with Ducky and help him with Kate if he needs it. I'm going to go talk to the director and ramp up the protection on NCIS. I want this sonofabitch dead TONIGHT." We got in the car and I looked out the window and watched as McGee turned and walked back into the warehouse.

"Will he be safe?" I whispered hoarsely, leaning my face against the glass.

"Yes," Gibbs said. "I'm sure Ari moved on after what he did. Now we need to get back to NCIS and make sure that everyone there stays safe as well. I have a feeling that's where he'll be heading next."

I nodded and the rest of the ride was made in silence, save only for one moment. We stopped at a red light and Gibbs looked over at me. "Tony are you ok?"

I looked at Gibbs like he'd grown another head. "Think we both know the answer to that one Jethro," I said tiredly.

He reached out and took my hand and gave it a squeeze. "I'm glad you're safe," he whispered. "I'm glad he didn't shoot you."

"I was scared he'd shot you," I said softly, moving to stare at my lap. The light changed and we started moving again and the conversation ended.

xxx

It took longer than any of us would have liked for the raw fear to die down.

I stayed most of the evening with Abby, knowing that she'd be sad, and knowing that she'd need someone who could watch her six. McGee was busy with the technical end of things, and Gibbs was walking around like a bear with a sore paw, snapping and growling at everyone and treating every person he encountered like we were all ignorant probies.

I was so tired I could cry and Abby _was _crying and we were both scared and nervous and I was just waiting on something to happen. Ari wouldn't just stop there. He was not going to stop until we were all dead, or one of us took him out. The building had been sealed, the Navy Yard was locked down, everything was under control. I got the ok from Gibbs and we all breathed a sigh of relief. For one split second everything was fine.

And then I saw it. The small red dot of a sniper's scope…right on Abby's…

"PERIMETER BREACH!" I yelled into my com, tackling Abby to the ground just as the glass above her face shattered and pain ripped through my right shoulder. I let out a yelp of pain and Abby's scream was deafening music in my ears. I dragged Abby around behind the heavy wall and we leaned against it, still staying low, but protected by the this concrete. I took a deep breath and tried not to think about the pain in my shoulder or my friend screaming in my ears beside me. Abby was seriously freaking out. "This's…DiNozzo…"

_~What's your location DiNozzo?_~ Gibbs sounded so far away. Come to think of it…everything sounded far away. My eyes felt like they had lead weights on them. If I'd been tired before it was nothing compared to this.

"Abby's…" I whispered.

I could feel hands pawing at me and then I heard Abby screaming again. "GIBBS HELP US TONY GOT SHOT!"

_~Are you covered?~_ Gibbs' voice was sharp. We were all wearing coms—even Ducky and Abby, so I heard everything they all said.

"Yes," Abby whispered. "But there's…Gibbs there's a lot of blood…You gotta hurry."

_~Get pressure on Tony's wound Abby,~_ Gibbs said_. ~I'm coming. Everyone else hold your position!~_

xxx

I never heard Gibbs arrive in Abby's lab. I didn't hear him scream for a medic. I didn't hear that they doubled security in the building and the Navy Yard. They couldn't get an ambulance in to me because there was too much risk in moving any of Ari's targets around. So they apparently loaded me up on a gurney, drove me down to Ducky's and Ducky stitched me up and put me back together again. Thankfully the bullet passed straight through the soft fleshy parts of my shoulder, so he didn't have to go digging for it. He hooked me up on some blood to combat the blood loss, and I was tucked in to the couch in Ducky's office.

At least that's what I'm told happened. I was unconscious for all of that.

I woke up later and the first thing my brain registered was pain. Ohhhh golly it hurt. I blinked my eyes open and immediately shut them again. I was exhausted. Gibbs hovered over me. "You with me?" he asked softly and I managed a weak nod.

Then the memory of what had happened came rushing back and I nearly fell off the couch. "Abby!" I said urgently. My body, however, was not willing to cooperate and I started to slump almost instantly.

Gibbs caught me as I swayed. "Easy!" he barked. "She's safe. It's alright. Calm down. Christ." He pushed me back down gently and resituated my blanket.

"Gibbs?" I whispered, my voice breaking. I think I was as close to having a full breakdown as I'd ever been.

"We're going to get him. Ducky fixed your shoulder up. He said you'll need some physical therapy and lots of rest, but that you should regain full use of your shoulder."

"Ari?" I asked softly. Gibbs' eyes narrowed slightly and I realized that we hadn't gotten him yet. I patted his leg awkwardly with my good hand. "We'll get him," I whispered.

"No, I will get him," Gibbs swore. "He's…he's hurting my family. He will pay for what he's done."

I didn't like the sound of that. "Gibbs," I said, forcing a warning tone into my voice. "Don't do anything stupid."

Gibbs hit a button on Ducky's painkiller dispenser and I felt a wave of exhaustion wash over me. "Get some rest Tony," he said, dropping a kiss onto my forehead. "I love you. I'll be with you when you wake up." The last thing I saw as I fell asleep was his receding form, leaving me in Ducky's office and the door closing behind him.

xxx

I woke up pissed off. Anger is not something I throw around lightly or without reason, but I felt like I had a pretty good reason this time. I was still hooked up to the damn IV in Ducky's office and I glanced at the clock on the wall. 4:25. I had no idea if it was in the morning or afternoon because Ducky's office is in the basement behind reinforced steel walls. So I carefully sat up, mindful of my shoulder, and proceeded to pull out the IV in m hand. I hate needles. I've hated needles ever since I was a kid, but after the little run in with the plague that I had, I REALLY hate them now. And Gibbs wasn't with me. He said he'd be here. Which meant something was wrong.

I slowly eased myself to my feet and took a deep breath. I still felt pretty tired, and now that I was standing, the tiredness was coupled by fleeting waves of dizziness and disorientation. But I plowed on and left Ducky's office in search of…someone. I had no idea who was even still alive at this point. And that made me angry too. How dare Gibbs drug me and force me to sleep when some crazy sonofabitch was trying to kill him and all of my friends?

Oddly enough, the first person I ran into was Abby. "Tony!" she exclaimed and her eyes were all wide and her pigtails were bouncing. I noticed that she'd washed off all of her make up so it wasn't smudgy anymore. "What are you doing?"

"I'm looking for Gibbs," I grumbled, leaning against the wall, brushing past her as I headed for the nearest elevator. I swore I'd kill him myself if he'd left the Yard.

"He's not here Tony," Abby said softly. I stopped and turned around to look at her.

"Where is he Abs?" I asked softly. Abby squenched up her face at the question and she twisted her fingers nervously.

"He went home," she squeaked.

"WHAT?!" I yelled and she flinched. I tried to scale back my anger. It wasn't Abby's fault. I leaned heavier against the wall.

The elevator dinged and Ducky stepped off. "Anthony! Dear boy what are you doing up? And where is your IV young man?"

"Where is my partner, Ducky?" I fairly snarled at him. I needed to calm down; this wasn't his fault either.

"He's at home," Ducky told me. "He said he would be back soon."

"Unless he gets his stupid self killed!" I snapped and punched the button on the elevator, opening the doors again. "I'm going to the house. And if Ari hasn't killed him yet, then I just might."

"Anthony, I und—" the doors slid shut before I could hear him say anymore.

What I had not planned on was every agent-marine-military-political personnel in DC being on base, it seemed, and NONE of them would let me leave the building. Seems as though everyone had been given specific orders not to let Anthony DiNozzo out of the building.

I finally went back to Abby's make-shift office—hers was sealed for the investigation—and flopped down onto the couch. Abby was pacing nervously. I felt sick. I felt helpless.

"Where's my phone?" I said, mostly to myself, looking around.

"Wanna use mine?" Abby asked.

I dug my phone out of my pocket. "I got mine," I said softly. I flipped it open and punched a button. Once it started ringing I held it up to my ear.

He was placating me before he even got the phone answered. _"I know you're mad,"_ he said without preamble.

"You damn right I'm mad! What the fuck Gibbs?!"

_"I'm heading back to the yard now. We'll talk when I get there."_

"What happened?"

_"We'll talk when I get there. Tell the director he can call off the lock down."_

"How—"

_"Tony…"_

"Did you kill him?" I whispered harshly.

_"No,"_ he said in my ear, and even through my anger I could tell he was speaking the truth. _"No I didn't kill him."_

"But someone did," I said knowingly.

_"We'll talk when I get there."_

"You know I'm still mad at you."

_"I know,"_ he sounded resigned, as though he'd known it was coming._ "Knew it the minute I knocked you out so you'd stay out of trouble."_

My eyes narrowed. "Yeah about that," I snapped. "What the hell is up with drugging your partner?"

_"I was keeping you alive,"_ Gibbs snapped back._ "I had to keep you alive, and that was the best way I knew to do it."_

"What if the perimeter got breached again? What if Ari got into NCIS? I was a sitting duck! He could have killed me!"

_"I knew he wouldn't,"_ Gibbs said.

"How'd you know?"

_"Because I called him and told him to leave you alone."_

I blinked. "You…Gibbs…"

_"I'll be there in just a few minutes Tony. Try and relax—you still have a gunshot wound. I know you're angry, and you have a right to be angry. But we'll talk when I get there ok?"_

"Gibbs…I don't…it's too much," I said and my voice started breaking. I couldn't deal. No amount of sleep would take away the horrors of this day.

_"I'm coming. I'm fine and Ari is gone. We'll talk when I get there. I love you."_

"I love you too," I whispered and closed the phone, hanging up on him for a change.

xxx

By the time Gibbs arrived, Ducky had managed to coax me back onto his couch and he'd given me something "mild" to ease the pain in my shoulder. I was wondering how mild it actually was when Gibbs walked in. I could barely hold my head up and I'd swear my eyes were crossed.

"C'mon," he murmured, gently helping me to my feet. "We're leaving. I've got you. Let's go."

I stumbled to my feet, groaning at the pain in my shoulder and leaning heavily on Gibbs. My head rolled down to his shoulder and seemed to fit there. He wrapped my good arm around the back of his neck and we started out the door. "Keep walking," he said to me, and my feet instantly became more coordinated, and we slowly made our way to the car. I think I remember seeing Ducky leaning in the car and looking down at me, but it's fuzzy.

"Be by...check…soon…painkillers…rest…" I was fading in and out, my eyes drifting open and shut lazily.

"What'd…yoooooooooo g-gimme?" I whispered tiredly. Didn't matter though…I never heard his answer. The last thing I remembered was my head rolling forward quite suddenly and everything going dark.

xxx

Nothing hurt…I was in a painfree haze, but I quickly realized this felt wrong. It felt drug-induced. I wondered where we were and what had happened. I blinked slowly. I really had to quit waking up like this.

"You with me?" Gibbs was leaning over me suddenly and I started at his sudden appearance. "Easy," he soothed and I took a deep breath and felt relaxation wash over me. Whatever Ducky had given me must still be working.

I blinked a few more times, my eyes becoming heavy again. I was so tired.

"Want some water?" Gibbs asked me and I nodded. He was so careful with the way he lifted me up so I could sip. I became more alert as the cool water washed down my throat.

"Where're we?" I mumbled around a yawn. With some help I sat up all the way and swung my lets over the side of the bed. I raised a hand to my head and tried to rub away the headache that was forming.

Gibbs held some pills out in front of me. "It's just tylenol Tony," he said.

"Why should I trust that?" I asked tiredly, taking the pills and swallowing them dry.

"That's…fair," Gibbs relented.

I looked up at him. "What day is it?" I asked softly. "How long has it been since Kate…" I choked to a stop, my lower lip trembling. I raised a hand to cover my mouth as my eyes filled with tears.

"Kate died yesterday afternoon," Gibbs told me quietly.

I nodded silently and felt tears running down my face. I didn't make any move to wipe them away. "Think…'m gonna lay back down," I said softly. I didn't want to deal anymore. I didn't want to think. I didn't want to know that one of my dearest friends was…

I flopped down on my uninjured side and buried my face in the pillow. I felt the bed shift next to me and ignored it. I didn't want to talk. I didn't want to deal.

"Tony," I felt Gibbs' fingers brush softly through my hair. I didn't move. Didn't try to stop the tears. God I was tired. "Tony look up here." I shook my head, but looked up at him tiredly. I hadn't been able to do this…hadn't…Kate at least deserved tears.

Gibbs pulled me gently over to him. I laid my head on his chest, and once he wrapped his arms around me, I felt the dam burst and the tears started falling. I wrapped my good hand around the fabric of his t-shirt and sobbed my loss into my partner's chest. There were so many mixed feelings here. Feelings of loss over Kate's death, and yet, relief because it wasn't Gibbs who died, guilt because of feeling relieved, and fear that it could all still go horribly wrong…

"Let it out," Gibbs breathed into my ear. "I've got you. You're safe now. No one is going to hurt us here. Just relax."

It seemed like a long time passed before I opened my eyes again and lifted my head. My eyes felt scratchy and grainy—the way you feel if you fall asleep in the middle of a good cry (not that I do that a lot—DiNozzos don't cry…much). My head felt like it had a bass drummer in it. Gibbs was still under me though, and I was still wrapped up in his arms, and that felt so nice. It'd been so long since…God. Was that really, only day before yesterday that I'd been awakened by my alarm clock for the wild romping sex before my glorious return to work?

Could that really have only been day before yesterday?

"Time is it?" I asked softly without moving.

A hand started stroking lightly up and down my injured arm, being careful not to hurt. "Nearly noon," Gibbs murmured. "How you feeling?"

"Like shit," I mumbled. "But how else should I feel after the past couple of days?"

"Point," Gibbs said. I could hear the guilt in his tone.

"Gibbs," I whispered, suddenly overwrought by my own guilt. "Did…did we kill Kate?"

"No." Gibbs' voice was firm. "This is not your fault. It's not my fault. It's not anyone's fault except Ari's."

"Are you sure it was him?" I didn't like the way my voice trembled.

"Yes. He _apologized _to me for killing Kate," Gibbs said tightly.

"Was that before or after you shot him?" I asked, slowly pushing myself up.

Gibbs steadied me and sat up too. "I didn't shoot Ari."

"You said he's gone though. Someone else took him out?"

Gibbs nodded. "Yep."

"Who?"

"Another player I didn't anticipate. A wild card."

"Great," I muttered. "Just what we needed. Another wild card. Just how many people were in our house last night?"

"Several. But at the time of Ari's death there was only Ari, me, and…"

"Annnddd…"

"Ari's half sister. Ziva David. She's a member of the Israeli Mossad."

I shook my head, trying to wrap my brain around what Gibbs was telling me. "Huh?" I asked dumbly.

"The Mossad sent Ziva, who is Ari's half sister, to put Ari back on his leash. When she couldn't get him under control, she made what I think was a very wise decision. A difficult one for her, but wise."

"Has anyone said when Kate's funeral will be?"

"Day after tomorrow," he told me. "In Ohio. Director is letting us attend."

"Nice of him," I muttered darkly.

"Tony," Gibbs started again.

"Stop," I whispered. "I don't wanna talk anymore. Please. Can we just leave it? I'm so tired."

Gibbs looked like he wanted to say more, but he nodded instead and wrapped an arm around me, pulling me close. "Sure," he said softly. "You're still suffering from blood loss…Hmmm…Let's get you some juice and some food, and then we'll let you rest more. How's that sound?"

I wasn't hungry. "Sounds great," I agreed, knowing it'd make Gibbs happy. "Something lighter?"

"You got it," Gibbs said with a nod. "Stomach feeling sensitive?" he asked me sympathetically.

I nodded pitifully. "That isn't all," I whispered. I leaned into his embrace and clung to him with my good hand, and took great comfort from his arms tightening around me. "I don't wanna sleep anymore," my voice trembled. "I don't…I've missed so much…"

"Well right now we've got some down time. We're off of active duty for a couple of weeks. And you were…shot," Gibbs seemed to have to force the words out. "You don't have to sleep, but we both need to rest."

"Gibbs…I should have…should have stayed in front of Kate…she'd already taken one bullet for you…and then I was behind…behind both of you," I blinked slowly. I had screwed up so massively here…had nearly gotten everyone I loved killed…

Gibbs gave me a firm shake, drawing a whimper from me when it hurt. Correction. It was not a whimper. I don't whimper. It was a…ok fine. It was a whimper. Moving on. Gibbs gave me a shake and made me look up at him. "You did exactly what you were supposed to be doing," he told me fiercely. "We all hit the ground where we were standing. You were on the other side of the building and you crawled over to us. We stood up just as the next shot went off. You did nothing wrong."

"But I had…it was on my face," I whispered, remembering the wet spray of blood and brain matter that hit my skin and burned like a fire. "I should have helped her!"

"There was nothing either of us could do," Gibbs said. "The attack was from too far away for us to see—"

"But if he'd shot me instead of her—if I'd knocked her out of the way it would have hit my shoulder! I should have knocked her out of the way!"

"Did you know where Ari was? Did you know who he was aiming at? Did you have any idea of what was about to happen?" Gibbs' voice was dark.

"No," I muttered.

He gave me a light headslap. "Then quit blaming yourself. It isn't your fault she's dead and there's nothing either of us could have done to keep her alive." I flinched at his sharp words, but heard the truth in them. He was right. I sighed.

"I miss her," I said, and my voice was small.

"I know," Gibbs whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "I miss her too Babe. I miss her too."

We sat, entwined together, not really knowing where one of us stopped and the other started, for a long time. Kate was so wonderful. She was special—different from a lot of other people. I'd never told her my secret, but I think she figured it out on her own. And rather than use it against me, like Gibbs, she was careful not to abuse it. Careful not to put me in awkward situations. She was my best friend. She'd stood by me when I'd nearly died, and I…I'd stood by her as she died too. Right beside her, every step of the way. And it was horrible.

I vowed, right then and there, that I would never-ever lose another partner again. I wouldn't let them die on my watch.

And no order from any person on the planet would stop me.

TBC…


	8. Take A Time Out

**Author's Note:** Jumping ahead a bit here…I'm going to stray from canon on this one ;) so just be warned.  
**Warning:** Hints at f/m non-con. **Spoiler Alert: Hiatus, Season 4.** I'm dinking with the timeline again.

**Compelled  
****Chapter 8: Take A Time Out****  
**

The steady beeping of the equipment in the hospital room was oddly comforting. It told me that despite everything that had taken place, despite all the mistakes I made—the ones we all made—with this assignment, Leroy Jethro Gibbs was still alive. His heart was still beating, and the machines were making sure that he continued breathing, and that he was not in pain, and that the doctors and nurses would be alerted the instant something changed—good or bad.

We were all hoping for good. Good news, good change, good leads to catch the sonofabitch who—who blew—blew up my partner…He blew up my Gibbs. And I would make him pay for what he did. I sat next to him in the dark hospital room, my hand hooked gently around his very limp hand, being mindful of the burns and abrasions on his skin. The news was droning on and on about the mystery of the explosion at Quantico, and I took notice that they were careful to leave out any information about Gibbs or the suspect. We didn't know for sure that the bomber was alive…but we didn't know for sure he was dead either.

I was hoping he was still alive. I'd enjoy killing him.

As I sat in the darkened room, my thoughts began to drift. I thought back over the last year and I couldn't believe how different things were…it was insane to me that inside of just a year, everything was completely different. Well. Not everything. But lots of things. A new Director was assigned to NCIS—and imagine my surprise to learn it was one of Gibbs' ex-girlfriends—talk about awkward! Then she set up a liaison relationship between NCIS and the Israeli Mossad. And who should become the liaison officer? None other than Ari Haswari's half sister. Her name was Ziva David, and I had doubts about her the moment I saw her. It bothered me tremendously that she was the one in the basement with Gibbs and Ari that night—how did we know we could trust her? It bothered me more that she knew where we lived—and had no shame about showing up there at any time of day, any time a thought popped into her head about something. We'd been nearly caught in the act several times…I begged Gibbs to lock the door, but he refused.

The weeks passed and things grew increasingly awkward between Madame Director and the MCRT. She would set us up for cases to be blown out of proportion, misinterpreted, throw us off on wild goose chases…all sorts of manners of things to keep us from looking successful. Gibbs was not happy with the new selection for director. He was happy for Morrow and his promotion to head of Homeland Security, but he told me on more than one occasion that he worried about "Jenny's" lack of ability to remain professional.

I looked up when the door suddenly opened. "Agent DiNozzo," Director Sheppard's voice was cold. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be working."

"Ziva and McGee are at the scene. I'm listed as Gibbs' next of kin so I thought—"

"I don't pay you to think. I pay you to follow your orders. Now get your ass back to the crime scene."

I stood up. I had no choice. "But—"

The Director narrowed her eyes at me. "I won't ask twice," she said.

I was already heading out of the room. "Just—will you stay with him? And call me if he wakes up? Please?" I asked as I left.

She smiled and I couldn't read it. "Of course I will. Don't worry about Gibbs Tony. I'll take good care of him."

A wave of relief washed over me, and I knew this couldn't be good. Without a second glance I turned and walked away. After all, Director Sheppard would take good care of Gibbs. I didn't need to worry.

xxx

I should have worried. The next thing I knew, it was almost two days later. The elevator dinged and I looked up. There was Gibbs! He was dressed in hospital scrubs and he looked fairly pissed and he was hurrying towards the steps up to MTAC.

"Hi Boss!" I called.

He stopped then, and looked at me. And I felt my insides quake in horror. There was no recognition there. None. "Hello McGee," he finally said with that quirky little half smile.

I blinked. My world was ending. I thought I would die. How could this be happening? Gibbs didn't…even…remember…I looked at the Director. "What's going on?"

"Retrograde amnesia," the Director supplied. "He's lost the last twenty years or so."

Twenty years…but that would mean…

"I'm DiNozzo, Boss, not McGee. Remember?"

He took a step closer to me and his eyes narrowed. "DiNozzo. Of course," he stepped around me then and headed up the steps. I stood downstairs and watched in horror, wondering what the hell was happening. I felt like my heart would stop. This couldn't be happening could it? He couldn't have forgotten me? Could he?

They were all upstairs for a long time…almost an hour. In that time the rest of us looked nervously at one another, wondering what was happening, wondering what had brought Gibbs straight to NCIS from the hospital, wondering—and then suddenly the door to MTAC burst open and Gibbs stormed out. The director was hurrying behind Gibbs, a panicked look on her face, frantically trying to get Gibbs to stop, to listen, to calm down, to come back, to—

And then he stopped. Right in front of me. And he looked at me. I felt my hope grow.

"You'll do," he said, and he handed me his badge. Without another word, he turned, and he left.

I looked around at my team—MY team now…I wasn't ready to lead them! I wasn't ready for this! Where the hell was Gibbs going? What was he doing? Why did he quit? I turned around and looked at the Director. "What did you do?" I asked incredulously.

Sheppard's face darkened. "My office," she growled. "Now."

I followed her upstairs, already not liking how this was going. When we got to her office she walked around her desk and faced me. "Close the door Agent DiNozzo." I closed it. "Now come and sit down." My body was moving of its own volition. I took a deep breath, not liking the way this was looking. I had a bad feeling about this…

The Director opened a file and sat down in her chair once I was sitting. "I'm reading this file here," she said without preamble. "It says here that you're an Opsequensotype. Is that right?"

I felt a ball of…fear?...grow in my gut. "Yes," I said softly.

"Yes. Well isn't that an interesting turn of events. The leader of my MCRT has to obey any orders I give him…isn't that convenient?"

I did not like this. Did not like it one little bit.

"So here's your first order," Jenny said sweetly. "There will be no more backtalk. I don't like your attitude Agent DiNozzo. So you're going to change that."

I wanted to open my mouth and protest but I couldn't.

"See? That's better already. Now. The second thing. Your team's solve rate will not change. You will do whatever is necessary to make sure that those numbers stay the same or improve. There will be no decline. Understood?"

"Yes," I said through clenched teeth. "May I ask a question?"

She smiled sweetly, her red hair aflame in the sunlight from the window. "Of course."

"What file are you reading?"

She smiled again. "Why, your file of course?"

I didn't like that. I hadn't included that information in my file on purpose, per Gibbs' instructions. "How did you get that information about me?" I asked hoarsely.

She looked shocked. "Oh! You mean this ISN'T your employee file?" she asked innocently.

She knew that. I know she knew that. What the hell was she getting at. "You and I both know that's not my employee file," I said evenly. "What file is it?"

"Oh, just a little something that I had one of our agents put together."

OUR agents…that meant it was someone on our…MY team. "Who?" I asked softly.

Jenny smiled. "Ziva's detective skills are SO underappreciated," she gushed.

I thought I might be sick. Ziva was the last person I think I'd wanted to find out this particular part of me. "Can I go now?" I asked softly.

"No!" Sheppard said. "I've got one more thing to talk to you about. Something that you're just going to find…irresistible," she smiled deviously and I felt the feeling of dread wash over me. This was not going to be good. Not. At. All.

xxx

I went home that night, sickened by the day. I could hear the sound of someone rummaging through the house and wondered if it was Gibbs. Jenny had given me orders not to tell Gibbs anything about his life here and now. "Let him figure it out on his own," she said.

Gibbs suddenly rounded the corner and we nearly walked right into each other. He took a step back, struggling for a moment to remember who I was. I could see it all over his normally guarded face.

"Hell do ya want?" he grumped.

"I…I just got off work," I said softly.

"Why are you here?" Gibbs snarled impatiently. "Don't wanna see anybody!"

I wanted to tell him that I live here, that I'd been living with him for several years now. I had nowhere else to go. I had…I had to follow the orders I was given. "I just wanted to see how you were making out," I said softly, lying to my partner and hating myself for it.

"I'm fine," Gibbs snapped. "Don't know why everyone's so worried about me. I'm a big boy." He sounded a bit like a petulant child. "I'm leaving town," he said finally. "Getting out of here, trying to get my head back on straight."

He was leaving? What the hell was I going to do if he left? "You're leaving?" I squeaked.

He stepped up to me, toe to toe and nose to nose. "Are you questioning me?" he asked, his tone threatening.

"I just am…surprised…is all," I said. "I um…I mean all of your friends are here…your family," I said uneasily.

"I don't have any family anymore!" he barked, and I flinched, his words cutting me like a knife. He narrowed his eyes at me. "And I don't have any friends here. I don't even KNOW you people!"

I wanted to argue. Wanted to tell him he was wrong. That he'd just forgotten. I wanted to help him remember. But I couldn't do any of those things so I just stayed still and quiet, hating myself more and more with every minute that passed. And then, my cell phone rang.

"DiNozzo," I answered.

"_I need you to meet me in my office," _came Sheppard's voice over the phone. _"Get your ass back to NCIS."_

"On my way," I said grimly. This was not good. NOT good. I hung up the phone and looked back at my partner. "Gibbs…I…"

"Why are you still here?" he said dismissively. "I don't want you here. I don't want to see you. I don't want to see anybody. Leave me alone! Just GO AWAY!" Gibbs roared.

I didn't even have the chance to say goodbye before my body carried me away to my car, the force of both of the orders—to go away and to go back to NCIS—propelling my every move. I let out a sigh as I pulled out into traffic. I couldn't tell anyone what was happening—Director Sheppard had made sure of that. And now Gibbs…he was leaving…I stopped at a red light and looked around in the twilight, wondering when things had gotten so screwed up.

xxx

The next few weeks passed in a blur and before I even realized it two months had passed. I rolled over and hit the alarm with a quiet sigh. I'd rented myself an apartment—a small studio not far from NCIS after Gibbs had basically thrown me out of his house. And because of his damn orders I couldn't even force my body to go there and obtain my stuff. Thankfully, once Ducky had realized I was sleeping in my car and wearing the same two outfits over and over again (it took him about four days to catch on) then he offered to go get my things for me. He thought I just didn't want to go back there. I couldn't…couldn't tell him why I couldn't go there…he was already so angry with Gibbs…I didn't want to make it worse.

Once the alarm was silenced I let out a soft sigh. I'd been in bed for exactly three hours and fourteen minutes. I rolled my tired, weary body out of bed with another quiet sigh and headed for the shower. Maybe a hot shower would wake me up. I'd definitely be hitting up the coffee shop this morning for a Gibbs Special. Lord knows I understood why he drank the coffee in the quantities he did. I quickly got myself cleaned up and dressed—my power suits were taking a beating these days. There hadn't been a word heard from Gibbs since the night I left him standing in his living room, and I hadn't had more than four hours sleep in any one period of time since that night.

Tim and Ziva were being…lazy at best and outright insubordinate at worst. They didn't listen, half assed their jobs, and worst of all? The director knew it. She knew it and she refused to do anything about it. Ziva was her little darling, and Tim is a computer genius. Doesn't leave a lot of room for help for me. Everyone was noticing the way Tim and Ziva were acting, but they were all too busy pointing out the fact that I am not Gibbs (a fact I know all too well, thank you very much) to do anything to help me. The only person who was being slightly supportive these days was Jimmy Palmer—the Autopsy Gremlin. He's been awesome. Really someone I could be good friends with. Between him and my probie, Agent Lee, I was beginning to think I might survive. Agent Lee was a sweetheart, wet behind the ears and waaaaaaaay too green for my taste, but a good agent, and very trainable. She would do well. I also had a sneaking suspicion that she had the hots for The Gremlin, but I couldn't be sure.

We made it through yet another hard day, coffee being streamlined, and me trying not to focus on how exhausted I was, and just as I released my team for the day I heard the director's voice. "Agent DiNozzo," she called from her perch. I turned and looked at her on the mezzanine. "Come up here," she said. "I need to talk to you."

My feet were immediately on the go, hauling my tired self up the stairs to the director's office. "Come sit down," she said. I moved over and sat down on the couch she indicated. She closed the door and joined me on the couch. "How are things?"

"Think you know how things are," I said evenly. "I'm working my ass off, everyone else is getting the credit, and yet no one seems to notice or care. It's fan-TAS-tic!" I forced a bright smile to my face.

Jenny smiled a little brighter, a little more deviously. "Since things are going so well," she said. "I have a new assignment for you. One that is…a touch on the secretive side."

"A touch?"

"Yes. As in, you won't mention this project to anyone."

I felt the familiar dread wash over me and I blinked. "What is it?" I asked.

Director Sheppard stood up and walked to her desk. "Not what," she said softly. "Who." She handed me a black and white three by five inch photograph of a beautiful woman. "This is your assignment. Her name is Jeanne Benoit."

"Ohhhhhhhh kay. Not exactly my type," I said softly.

"Sure she is," Jenny said.

"No," I said softly. "She isn't."

Jenny looked at me and her eyes were like flint. "Yes," she said softly. "She is your type. You just love her don't you? Look how pretty she is."

My eyes turned to the picture and I knew this would be my hardest resistance yet. "You could just fall in love with her couldn't you?"

"No," I whispered. "No I won't do it. Not to me…not to Gibbs," I murmured.

Jenny drew the picture away and my eyes tried to follow it. She smiled wickedly. "Gibbs?! Seriously!" Uh oh. I'd just fucked up big time. I hadn't meant to say that out loud. Jenny leaned in towards me and her smile widened and I swear I could see Satan staring back at me. "Forget Gibbs," she said—knowing EXACTLY what she was saying.

I hadn't had emotion like that wash over me since Baltimore—the day they told me to hop off the Key Bridge. I shook my head. "I can't…I won't…no I won't," I whispered, shaking my head desperately. "You can't make me do this! You can't!"

"I can," she said, a sinister tone to her voice. "And I will. You're mine DiNozzo. To do whatever I please with. And I'm telling you to forget Gibbs, forget whatever relationship you have dreamed up, and you will fall in love with your mark, Jeanne Benoit."

I took a deep, calming breath and nodded. "I understand," I said softly. I had to get out of there. I had to go now. I had to do…SOMETHING…I had to get around this…

"Take this photo with you. Memorize her face. Memorize everything you can learn about her. And do not say a word of this to anyone. This is top secret. Understand?"

"I understand," I said again. "Can I go now?"

She nodded and dismissed me with a wave of her hand. I nearly ran from the office. I hurried to my car and sat for a long time behind the wheel. I forced my brain to go back over every memory I had of Gibbs. First time I saw him, first time we talked, first time he and I touched, the night I found out my partner was dirty, moving to DC, moving into NCIS, moving in with Gibbs, Ari, having the plague, being chained to the crazy serial killer, the list went on and on and I played the scenes in my head like a movie. I wanted help—needed to be released from this damn order, but I didn't know who to go to. There was only one person…one person I knew that could make it truly better. One person who could help me.

I needed to go to Mexico.

I didn't know if Gibbs wanted to see me, if he remembered me, if he'd even care, but I figured if he didn't then I could at least toss myself into the ocean and die in a beautiful place instead of in dreary rainy Washington DC.

I didn't even stop at home—I went straight to Dulles and bought the first ticket I could find to Tijuana.

Now, in case some of you may have forgotten what happens to me when I get stupid and start trying to go against my body…I can do it…but it's REALLY taxing on me—I knew it wouldn't be long before I'd be absolutely exhausted. I'd sleep for days once this was done—one way or another—I had no doubts. I quickly boarded the plane, still running memories of Gibbs frantically through my head. I turned down water, snacks, drinks, blankets, anything that would distract me from my task. Christ it was hot, I thought as I loosened my tie. There was some turbulence as the plane ascended through the murky clouds. I mumbled softly to myself, scared to close my eyes, forcing memories into my head, but to my horror, as the hours passed and as I played through the memories again and again, they were becoming jumbled. I was already exhausted, but I knew better than to fall asleep. If I went to sleep my brain would erase every memory I had of Gibbs, our relationship…our life together. If I went to sleep I might as well never wake up.

Finally, after nine hours and two layovers, the plane landed in Tijuana. I flashed my passport and my badge and was allowed through security quickly. I knew the name of the town that Mike Franks lived in, and I'd heard Ducky say that Gibbs was staying with him. I hopped a bus bound for the town and hoped like hell I would be able to communicate well enough to find Franks' home. By the time the bus stopped in the little coastal town I was nearly delirious. I was sweating horribly and my hands were shaking with the effort I was exerting to keep my thoughts clear. I stumbled through the town and the locals looked at me like I was insane—I might be!—and I finally found a bar. I figured if Franks and Gibbs were down here the people in the bar would know them and would be able to help me. I went inside and the bartender handed me a glass of water which I drank gratefully.

"Por favor," I croaked. "Por favor…Señor Franks…Señor Gibbs…Por favor…" I couldn't remember anymore Spanish than that…I hoped it was enough. I pushed more memories of Gibbs to the front of my mind. The way he looked when he slept. The way he smelled in the mornings. The way our bodies fit together like two pieces of puzzle…

"Si," the bartender said. "I call for you."

"Thank you," I whispered.

"Leyla!" he called. A beautiful woman appeared from the back of the bar. "You take eh…what your name?"

"DiNozzo," I said softly, still trying to cling to the memories. "Tony DiNozzo."

"You take eh DeeeeNozzo to see Franks and Gibbs?"

"They do not want visitors," she said.

"Please," I whispered. "Please I must see Gibbs. Please."

She looked at me for a long moment and must have felt sorry for me. She finally nodded. "Come out to the jeep," she said. "I take you to them." We walked outside and she eyed me curiously as she heard me whispering to myself. "Are you mad?" she finally asked gently. She didn't seem afraid of me though, merely curious.

"I need to see Gibbs," I whispered. I mopped at my forehead that was dripping with sweat from the exertion. God I hoped this worked. It was early in the morning, or late at night, depending on how you look at it. That time of night when it could be either early or late, depending on who you were. After a few minutes we arrived at a small, nondescript cabin right on the beach. Leyla pulled the jeep up to a stop and honked the horn.

"Hell do ya want?!" Came a slurred, snarly voice from somewhere inside the cabin. It wasn't Gibbs' voice though. Must be Franks.

"Where is Gibbs?" Leyla called.

A moment later Gibbs poked his head out the front door. Thank God.

"You have a visitor," she said, indicating me as I climbed out of the jeep.

Gibbs came down the steps slowly, watching when I wobbled unsteadily. "DiNozzo? What're ya doing here? What's wrong with you?"

"Need your help," I croaked. "Please help me."

The smirk on Gibbs' face changed to one of concern. "You came all the way to Mexico to get me to help you?"

"Please," I whispered. "You're the only one who can help me…"

"Why is that?" he sounded suspicious.

"You don't remember," I gasped, horrified beyond belief and nearly dying at the pain of my heart breaking all over again. God this couldn't be happening.

"What don't I remember?" Gibbs' tone sounded weary, not angry. "The list of things I've forgotten seems to grow by the minute. But I do remember that we're close. If I can help you I will."

"Tell me what you remember about me. Please. I've been ordered to forget. I can't…I don't want…Please…I don't want to forget you…forget us…"

"Us?" Gibbs asked softly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean we're partners…at work…at home…we've been partners for a long time."

"How long?" Gibbs asked.

I swayed hard and wobbled again. This time he reached out to steady me. "What the hell is wrong with you DiNozzo?" he asked me.

"You really don't remember," I murmured dazedly. The memories of Gibbs and me were beginning to fade and I knew I needed to do something to make him remember. I couldn't let our relationship die this way. Not when one of us couldn't remember and the other one didn't want to forget…so I did the only thing I knew to do.

I took my life into my own hands.

I headslapped Gibbs.

And after I headslapped Gibbs I promptly dropped to my knees. I was too tired to hold myself up anymore. I went back to murmuring to myself, trying to remember little details—which hand Gibbs holds his coffee cup in, what color his toothbrush is, what brand of deodorant he wears, that sort of thing. Little things. I couldn't forget him. I refused to do it. I'd die trying to keep the memory alive.

And then suddenly two hands were on my shoulders, and cupping my face and I was wondering how Gibbs was touching me so much all at once. He tilted my head up and looked me in the eyes. I was so exhausted I could barely hold my eyes open. "Who ordered you? What happened?"

"Director Sheppard…" I whispered. "Ordered me…told me…forget you…couldn't…" My eyes fell shut on their own. I was so tired.

"You're released from the order Tony. Keep your memories." I sagged against him in relief. I was vaguely aware that it was starting to rain and the wind was picking up.

"C'mon," Gibbs' words were soft and his hands hooked gently under my elbows, hauling me to my feet. "Storm comin' in. We need to get inside. Leyla are you staying or going back?"

"Going back," she said. "Goodnight Gibbs."

He waved with one hand and she drove away. Gibbs led me inside. "How long ago did she give you those orders Tony?"

"Time is it?" I whispered.

"Nearly four in the morning," Gibbs answered gently.

"Mmmmm bout…twelve…twelve hours ago," I said softly. My eyes didn't want to stay open. "Can…sleep?"

"Little bit farther," Gibbs said. "C'mon in here." There was a hammock hanging in the room Gibbs was leading me to. "You're ok to sleep right? Not hurt or anything?"

"'m not hurt," I whispered. "Just…tired…"

"Not gonna forget me if you go to sleep are you?"

I cracked one eye open. "You remember?"

"I remember some. I know I hurt you. I'm sorry Tony. For lots of things. Mostly for the way I treated you. I'm sorry I forgot you…forgot us. Might need some reminders along the way, but I remember now. I love you so much," Gibbs whispered and I thought all my Christmases had come at once.

The last thing I remembered before sleep finally took me away was Gibbs' hand brushing lightly through my hair, and his lips pressing gently against my forehead.

xxx

Gibbs must have manhandled me into the hammock—I was standing up when I fell asleep—because I was laying on it quite comfortably when I woke. The sun was high in the sky and it was warm in the cabin. A ceiling fan overhead stirred the humid air and captured my attention for a long moment.

"You finally awake?" I heard Gibbs speak softly.

I turned my head and stared at him. "Think so," I whispered. "How long—"

"Did you sleep?" I nodded again. Gibbs smirked. "You've been asleep since night before last. I was beginning to wonder if I needed to find a doctor."

"Sorry to just crash in on you like this," I said softly, my cheeks tinting with embarrassment now that I was more coherent and not half-crazed from trying to resist the order from the Director. I sighed. The director. What was I going to do about that?

"Hey," Gibbs said softly. "Why the long face?"

I shrugged. "Just thinking," I said.

Gibbs frowned. "It doesn't suit you."

"What doesn't?" I felt immediately defensive and pushed myself up on my elbows—as well as one can while lying in a hammock.

"Being team leader…you're too stressed out. Your lines are all wrong."

"My lines?"

"You know—the ones around your shoulders, your neck, your back—it's all wrong. You don't even look like yourself. And ya can't feel good all scrunched up and tense like that."

"It's been a long couple of months."

Gibbs crawled up in the hammock beside me and wrapped me up in his arms. "Tell me what's happened," he requested softly. "Tell me everything."

So I did…I told him about the team, the way they were acting, the way the director was not helping, what she'd said to me the night he passed the team over to me. I told him about the way Abby and Ducky were being distant and critical, and how I had gotten my own apartment once again. Gibbs cringed at that. "I'm sorry," he said again. "I didn't mean to kick you out of your own home."

"You didn't remember," I said. "And I'd been told not to tell you anything."

I talked and talked until finally, I got to the part about the undercover assignment. "She wants me to go undercover," I told Gibbs, so glad to finally be back in his arms and confiding in my partner like I was meant to be. "She wants me to get into some kind of romantic relationship with this girl, and she wants me to fall in love with her. That was…" I shuddered. "That was what started all this. She told me to go undercover. To keep it a secret. And that I should fall in love with her. I told her she's not my type…and I accidentally outed us," I said with a flinch, but Gibbs didn't even blink. "That's when she told me to forget you. Everyone around NCIS has been so…unsupportive of everything I say and do…I just decided to come here and hope I could get you to listen to me."

"I'm glad you did," Gibbs said softly. "I've been having these dreams about you…and I didn't understand them. Talking to you and hearing what our relationship was actually like…well they make a lot more sense now. They were memories, not dreams. I'm glad you came Tony."

"I had to come. I love you. I couldn't just…I didn't want to just forget that. And I knew I had to stay awake…if I fell asleep…"

"Your brain would erase the memories while you were sleeping. God that must be so hard for you. I'm so sorry."

"It's easier when I don't have to watch my own six all the time," I retorted, not thinking about making Gibbs feel guilty until he winced. "I know why you left," I reassured him. "And I think it was the right decision. But it did make things harder for me."

"We'll go back together," Gibbs said. "We'll make it right. I don't want you going undercover again. In fact, I want you to take a vacation if we can swing it."

"I don't know if I can go back," I whispered. I honestly feared for my safety—and the safety of anyone I was close to.

"We'll figure it out," Gibbs said. "I called NCIS and let Ducky know where you were. He's covering for you."

"Thanks," I said.

"He wasn't happy that you left like you did without saying anything."

"I didn't know who I could trust," I protested. "I didn't want to get stopped before I got out!"

"I think he could have helped you though," Gibbs said. "But I'm still glad you're here. I want to be able to keep an eye on you."

I nodded against his chest and yawned again. Gosh I was still tired. "Get some rest," Gibbs said softly. "Between the time zone changes and the orders you were fighting against…well it's no wonder you are exhausted. We'll have dinner when you wake up. Bet you're hungry too."

"Haven't really slept in…weeks," I said around a yawn. "'m starving," I mumbled.

"When did you eat last?"

"Um…" I wracked my brain trying to remember. "I had lots of coffee the day I left…and I think I had a donut…no that was the night before…" I felt Gibbs go still under me. "What?" I asked softly.

"You should take better care of yourself, Tony," Gibbs said softly. "You've gotta eat."

"I haven't had time to eat. Between the crime scenes—which there have been a lot of lately—and the paperwork that belongs to me, and the paperwork that belongs to Tim that I either have to redo or finish, and the paperwork that belongs to Ziva that I have been forced to translate from Hebrew…I was given orders not to let the solve rate drop." I shrugged one shoulder. "That means things like eating and sleeping took a back burner."

"Well stay here and get some rest. I'll go rustle up some grub," Gibbs said.

"I wanna come with you," I protested.

"Wanna go up to the cantina and eat? We'll see if Mike wants to come too."

I nodded. Sounded great. I didn't want to be out of sight of the man. I'd finally gotten back…I felt like I needed to make up for lost time. Mike declined the invitation so Gibbs and I hopped into Mike's truck and headed up the quiet, dusty road towards the cantina—the same road I'd ridden down with Leyla two nights before. Finally we pulled into the cantina and I recognized it as the place where Leyla worked and where I had found help.

"Hola!" the bartender called out cheerfully as we entered. I followed Gibbs to the bar and watched as he ordered for us both in flawless Spanish. Then he turned and indicated a dark table in the corner of the room.

I followed Gibbs to the table and we sat down. Already I was feeling tired again. How long had it been since I'd really rested?

"We'll eat then head back to the house and you can rest more," Gibbs said. "And maybe tomorrow you'll feel a little better."

I smiled, even as my head thunked back against the dark wood of the booth. My eyes slid shut tiredly. "Doin' it again," I said softly.

"Doing what?" Gibbs asked.

"Reading my mind," I said.

A moment later a pretty waitress appeared and set two bottles of beer and two shots of bourbon down in front of us. I smiled at Gibbs. "You tryin'…ply me with alcohol?" I asked.

Gibbs smiled. "I don't think I'd need alcohol."

"I know you wouldn't." I looked at him for a long moment. "I missed you Gibbs. Missed you so damn much." To my horror I felt tears stinging my eyes. Gibbs reached out and took my hand, resting on the table. "I'm sorry," I said.

"No," Gibbs said softly. "No I'm sorry. I shouldn't have treated you like I did. Shouldn't have run away. I just…I felt so lost…I wanted to go to the only person I remembered from that time in my life. I had to come here to Mike."

"I understand," I said, and I really did get that. "I just wish…I could have helped you," I said lamely.

"I don't think I wanted to be helped," Gibbs said. "In case you haven't noticed…I'm kind of a stubborn bastard."

I blinked and tried not to burst out laughing, but couldn't stop the chuckle that escaped. "Only just a little," I said good naturedly.

The waitress brought out two huge platters of food—wonderful looking shredded beef and potatoes and a huge helping of grilled peppers, onions and tomatoes. My eyes widened with gratitude at the beautiful meal sat before me and I dug in with gusto. Before I even got the first bite to my mouth, however, the waitress turned to Gibbs. "Phone call for you at de bar, Señor Gibbs."

Gibbs slid from the bar. "Be right back," he said to me. I continued eating, trying not to stare as Gibbs spoke heatedly on the phone with whoever had managed to find him and call him. He wasn't on the phone for long and when he came back I could barely tell in the neon lighting that his face was flushed with anger and frustration.

"Do I wanna know?" I asked.

Gibbs took a bite of food, chewed it, and chased it with a long sip of beer. "Ziva," he said finally. "She called, wanting my help."

"You seem to be a popular man these days," I commented sheepishly.

"She wants my help because you have apparently gone missing. Director Sheppard is threatening jobs and heads rolling if you aren't found and returned to work soon."

I sighed and took a sip of my beer. Gibbs knew what I was thinking before I could voice it though, because he put a hand on my arm. "I didn't rat you out," he said softly. "I told her to keep looking, that I'm sure you'd turn up."

I swallowed thickly and nodded. "Thanks," I said in a hollow voice.

He squeezed my arm. "Hey," he said sharply. I looked up at him. "I want you to tell me, in detail…" he stopped, his voice trailing off for a moment. "Tony," he said, and this time his voice was softer, gentler. "Would you like to tell me what happened with Jenny? Besides her ordering you to forget me."

I still flinched at the thought. "I can't…" I swallowed hard. "I can't tell you," I whispered.

Gibbs frowned. "Why not?"

"Because," I said, my voice ragged with exaggeration. "I can't."

"Try again," Gibbs said, and his voice lowered a bit. There was some iron behind it now that wasn't there before and I fought down the urge to flinch.

"I would love to," I said snippily. "But. I. Can't."

"Realization dawned on Gibbs' face then. "You can tell me Tony," he said softly. "You can always tell me anything you need to. What'd she do to you?"

"What hasn't she done?" I snapped.

"Unpack it for me. Talk it out. I need to know. I need to know how to handle this when we go back."

The "we" in that statement made me feel warm.

"Which part," I whispered. "The part where she told me that under no circumstances would our case solved rate go down? Or the undercover mission that I am forbidden from speaking of? Or maybe the fact that she locked me in her office and fucked me stupid the night you left?" I stopped, stunned. I couldn't believe that I had said that out loud. Wow.

Gibbs' jaw clenched so tightly I thought that his teeth would crack. His face flushed to an unnatural color and he picked up his beer and took a long drink of it. Finally he set it down and took a slow, deep breath. "What did you just say?" he asked, and I could hear the fire in his tone, the storm rumbling just beneath the carefully controlled surface.

I took a deep breath. "I said—"

"I heard what you said," Gibbs snapped. He took another sip of beer. "Did you want it?" he sneered. "Was it good for you?"

I did flinch at that and I couldn't stop the hurt expression on my face or the sadness that filled my eyes. "Gibbs—" I whispered. I hadn't come this far to lose everything. "I…I didn't…it…it wasn't like…like that," I whispered.

Realization dawned on Gibbs' face then. "Oh God," he whispered. "Tony…Tony what did she do to you?"

"She didn't hurt me," I whispered, though she had. She'd torn my heart right from my chest. "I just…she told me I couldn't…couldn't stop her…couldn't tell her no…couldn't even speak. I didn't…I wouldn't ever…Gibbs I couldn't betray you like that…I swear I didn't want it…I didn't even…even…"

"Ah Tony," Gibbs sighed. He looked up then, like a thought occurred to him. "How many times did it happen?"

I felt sick. I didn't want to have this conversation. Not now, not ever. I pushed my plate away, suddenly not hungry anymore. "I'm her little puppet," I snarled softly. "Happens any time she decides she wants it."

Gibbs pushed his own plate away then. He took another sip of his beer and then set it on the table with a definitive clink. "C'mon," he said brusquely. "Are you finished eating?" he amended quickly as I started to spring from the booth.

"I'm done," I whispered softly, in more ways than one, I thought to myself. Gibbs noticed.

"We're going to rest up tonight," Gibbs said gently, and tomorrow we're going home. And we're going to fix this. No one will treat MY partner like this. No one. I will end her. And this bullshit stops now." He slapped some money down on the table and stormed out. I followed close behind him, an equal mixture of fear and excitement making my insides tingle. One thing kept creeping into my thoughts, something that brought a smile to my face.

Gibbs was back.

TBC…


	9. New Understanding

**Spoiler Alert: **Loose references to Episode 3.08 Under Covers, 3.12 Boxed In, and there is some reference to events in Season 4 as you've never seen it before. And by now you know me. I'm dinking with the timeline again!

**Compelled  
****Chapter 9: New Understanding****  
**

We left the cantina and Gibbs and I got back into Mike's truck. I could sense how angry Gibbs was. He was almost vibrating he was so mad. I decided that I'd done enough damage for one night and I'd be better off keeping my mouth shut. So while Gibbs drove I stared out the window. I thought back over everything that had happened, everything that had been said, the orders I'd been given, the awful things Jenny said and did to me, the awful things Ziva had done ever since she'd found out about me.

The things that had happened…they were nothing really, in the grand scheme of things, but it was enough to let me know where I stood. I started thinking though…how long had Ziva known about me before she'd told Jenny? I thought back to the night we were undercover as the married assassins…she'd said some things that night that were odd…she'd even ordered me not to answer questions from the people who ended up capturing us…had she known what she was saying? I'd taken one hell of a beating that night…

_**Flashback**_

_I looked up at Tall-Dark-and-Stupid, wondering how many hits I was going to have to take before this was all over. _

"_Don't answer him Jean-Paul," Ziva breathed in my ear. We were still undercover and as far as we both knew, hadn't been made. _

"_Where's the disk?" Tall-Dark-and-Stupid asked me again._

_I smiled up at him, feeling the slight tinge of the order. I wasn't Jean-Paul—this order didn't affect me as deeply as others, and I remembered being in Philadelphia and doing much the same. _

"_What disk is that?" I asked._

_Tall-Dark-and-Stupid backhanded me and I felt my jaw pop. My lip split then and I heard Ziva gasp behind me. Several questions and punches later and I was barely conscious. Ziva said something and they untied her. I was trying to keep my breathing steady and not blow our cover. Dammit all I couldn't remember Ziva's undercover name though._

"_Honey?" I slurred. Ziva looked back at me. "What're…doing?"_

"_I'm giving them what they're asking for," she said with a small smile._

_I didn't quite follow what she meant by that. All I knew was one minute she was smiling sadly at me and the next minute she was gone._

_What happened next is blurry…I had one hell of a concussion from the whole thing by the time it was done. I know I ran my mouth, and I know Tall-Dark-and-Stupid beat the hell out of me. The next thing I remember clearly was Gibbs and McGee bursting into the room. Tall-Dark-and-Stupid was on the ground—under my chair?!—and unconscious. I'd beaten the hell out of him too—and with my hands tied behind my back! _

"_I want a divorce!" I'd slurred just before I passed out._

_I woke up in the Emergency Room, Gibbs' worried face hovering over me. He'd barely let me out of his sight for days after that. I still say that wasn't my fault though. It's not like I planned to nearly get myself beaten to death on Gibbs' birthday. Not my fault. NOT. MY. FAULT!_

_**End Flashback**_

I blinked out of the memory and glanced around. We were still driving, but I thought we were getting close to Mike's cabin. I glanced over at Gibbs and could see that he still looked angry. Man I'd really done it this time. I figured I shoulda stayed in DC. I screwed up when I came here. Gibbs would be happier if I had stayed in DC and forgotten him and our relationship. But…that didn't seem right either…he seemed so protective and yet…yet he was so angry. I didn't know who he was more angry at—Jenny for what she'd done, or me for letting it happen. I didn't know how to fix this.

"You're thinking too hard," Gibbs said shortly, without taking his eyes off the road.

I swallowed hard. "Sorry," I whispered.

When we got back to the cabin, I climbed slowly out of the truck. Gibbs was already heading inside. It was getting dark outside, but was still a bit light. "I'm gonna take a walk," I said softly. With any luck I'd walk right off the edge of a cliff and save everyone lots of trouble.

"You alright?" Gibbs asked me.

I turned around and forced a smile to my face. "Fine," I replied with a nod. I turned and walked away before he could see that I was lying. I headed off down the beach, but didn't end up going very far. I decided to sit down and think instead of walking. I was still a bit tired from everything that had happened with Jenny. I sat down in the sand and tucked my knees up close to my chin, wrapping my arms around my legs.

Thoughts of Jenny brought me back to thoughts of Ziva. When had she figured me out? If she hadn't done it by the time we went undercover together, then she absolutely had me pegged by the time we got locked in the storage container.

_**Flashback**_

_When we felt the box begin to move, I began to panic. We needed to get out of there! I pulled out my phone and Ziva closed her hand over mine. She smiled when I looked at her curiously. "Just relax Tony," she said in a sultry voice. "Put your phone away. There is no need to panic."_

_We spent much of the day talking, and I spent a good bit of that time feeling light and happy, not panicking or worrying. I smiled and laughed easily and have no idea what all I told her. In fact, looking back on it, it bothered me a bit how much about that day I didn't remember. I remembered seeing her smile, and every time the uneasy feeling would creep in, she'd tell me to relax and then I'd just drift away on the sensation again._

_I barely noticed it when I got shot in the arm—in fact, didn't even register the pain until Gibbs asked me about the blood on my shirt. I stared at it dumbly for a long moment, before Ziva slid in with a smile. "It's just a scratch," she insisted and I found myself nodding alongside her, not contradicting her. _

_Gibbs took me to Ducky to get it checked since it looked like it was bleeding pretty heavily. Ducky informed us that it was not a scratch; it was, in fact, a graze from a bullet. "Another inch to the right and you'd have a very serious injury," Ducky tutted. Gibbs asked me why I'd not told him I'd been winged, and I shrugged. I didn't know. And at the time it didn't really bother me, but now…_

_**End Flashback**_

I shuddered at the memory. The wind off the ocean was cool and I shivered lightly. It was dark now and the moon was high in the sky. I had no idea how long I'd been sitting out here, but I startled badly when a blanket suddenly draped around my shoulders. I reached my hand up and caught it when it slid and I looked up. Gibbs was standing behind me, and he looked…concerned? "Got worried," he said softly. "You've been out here for a while."

I couldn't think of a decent response, so all I said was, "Oh," and looked back out to the sea.

Gibbs sat down on the sand next to me, our shoulders just barely brushing. "You ok?" he asked me.

I shrugged. "Think I screwed up again," I said softly.

"I don't remember you screwing up the first time," Gibbs said gently and I snorted in response.

"Oh I definitely screwed up," I muttered. "I just…" was tired, wanted to go home, wanted to have a home to go home to, wanted to feel safe, wanted to feel loved, wanted to feel wanted and needed…

Gibbs wrapped his arm around my shoulders and drew me close. "You haven't done anything wrong," he said plainly.

"Shouldn'ta come here," I said, trying to move out of the warm embrace. Gibbs held on tight though, and he wouldn't let go.

"Why shouldn't you have come here?" he asked incredulously. I struggled more and he tightened his hold. "Tony?" I closed my eyes and shook my head. Christ I was tired. I wanted to be NOT TIRED anymore. I wanted…I wanted my life back.

"Everything's so messed up," I whispered. "It's been messed up ever since…since Ari," I said, looking up at Gibbs. "And I shouldn't have come here because you're down here trying to get your head on straight and remember everything, and here I've just brought all this shit down here to you—the shit you were trying to get away from! What kind of partner am I? Why did I come here? I'm so STUPID!"

"Hey," Gibbs said gently, and I could hear the reprimand in his tone. "Where's all this coming from?" I took a deep, shuddering breath, waiting for it. Finally Gibbs sighed. "I wished you'd tell me," he said, making sure not to voice an order.

"I wish you'd treat me like everyone else!" I snapped, successfully pulling out of his gentle embrace. "I don't want to be handled gently. I don't want to be talked to like I'm a child. I'M AN ADULT GIBBS! And I deserve to be treated like—" A sob suddenly caught in my throat and I slapped my hand over my mouth. I deserve to be treated like an equal part of the world—not someone who needs to be treated differently.

Gibbs tackled me and wrapped me back in his warmth and part of me wanted to just crawl inside him and stay protected forever; while part of me resented wanting him in the first place. I should be able to do this on my own. I should be able to survive in the world without everyone wanting to kill me.

"I just…I don't…I don't understand," I forced out. I tried to shift a little to get my face out of the sand, but it was hard to move (or breathe) with Gibbs on top of me.

Gibbs' chin was tucked into my neck and I could feel his breaths on my ear. "What don't you understand?" he whispered.

"I don't—understand—how…why…am I so bad?" I whispered.

Behind me Gibbs stilled. "Why do you think you're bad?" he asked, his words a breath against my skin.

I struggled to move and he shifted with me, refusing to let me out of the embrace. I rolled over so I was facing him, but didn't meet his gaze. "I must be," I mumbled. It was the only conclusion that made any sense. It must be me. "It keeps happening…doesn't matter where I go…what I do…what is it about me that makes me…that makes people want to…why does everyone want me dead?" I whispered. "Or maimed or my reputation ruined or my credibility shot all to hell…I don't know why…I don't get it…What'd I do?" I wanted so badly to look up at him, but I couldn't raise my gaze. I couldn't bear to see the look in his eyes.

Gibbs put a finger under my chin and lifted my face. "Hey," he whispered. "You aren't bad," his voice grew a bit. "You're wonderful. You might be the unluckiest person I've ever met," he smiled at me then. His voice wasn't taunting or teasing. "I wish I knew why people think it's ok to abuse you like this. You don't deserve it." He looked me in the eye. "And when we get back to DC we're going to fix it. I will fix it. I won't let those bastards hurt you and I won't let them run you off. You're mine and I love you. And I'm not letting you go."

I think I must have looked skeptical because Gibbs leaned down then and he kissed me. Our tongues dueled and twirled until we were both left breathless, sprawled on the beach, him on top of me, panting and gasping for air. He looked at me and smiled. I tiredly returned the smile. He moved in again and kissed me again and I giggled when his hands began to wander.

"Shit Gibbs," I chuckled out. "We should be quiet—Mike—he can hear us?!"

Gibbs smiled. "It's alright Tony," he said. "He won't bother us. He won't mind."

"Are you sure?" I whispered.

Gibbs leaned in and kissed me again. "I promise," he said.

xxx

Eventually we picked ourselves up off the beach. The tide was coming in and they'd each felt the tickle of waves against their feet as they romped in the sand. I rolled to my back and turned my head to look at Gibbs. Gibbs was lying on his back in the sand, and smiling at me. It'd been a long time since we'd…enjoyed each other's company. We were both still breathing hard and our clothing—what we were still wearing anyway—was in terrible disarray.

"God I love you," Gibbs breathed.

I smiled wider, but before I could answer I heard a chuckle from the sand above us. I scrambled—horrified—to straighten my clothes and find—where the HELL were my pants?! "Damn," I heard Mike's words, even as my skin colored in shame at being caught. What was I? Fifteen? "Way to probe your probie, Probie," he chuckled at his own joke. I closed my eyes and continued scrambling around, thankful that I at least had my boxers on still. Good God how embarrassing.

"Jesus Mike!" Gibbs said, moving to straighten his own clothes.

"Oh c'mon Probie it's nothing I've not seen before," Mike said, taking a lazy swig off of his beer.

Gibbs sat up and tossed me my pants. Thank God. "You have this uncanny ability to ruin a perfectly good moment, you know that?"

Mike shrugged. "Not my fault you decided to bang your boy toy on my beach," he smiled.

I wanted to die. God this was embarrassing. Finally putting myself right, I stood up on shaky legs. "Going inside," I mumbled, trying to hurry up the sand, but really—how fast can you walk in sand? I could hear Gibbs and Mike snarking back and forth at each other, and just tried to tune them out. I was too tired for this. I didn't want to be under scrutiny. I mean sure, the place belonged to Mike—how could I tell him where to go or not go? But seriously—if you see a couple having a…moment, leave 'em alone!

By the time I reached the house I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I felt so…I didn't know how I felt. I all but ran to the bathroom and shut the door. I turned on the water and quickly shed my clothes. I climbed into the shower and let the water wash over me. God what a mess. Suddenly the curtain jerked back and I nearly fell over in surprise I jerked so hard.

"Sorry I scared you," Gibbs said softly. "Um…can I join you?"

"Figured you were outside having a big laugh with Franks," I muttered.

"I didn't mean to make you feel bad," Gibbs said quietly. "Especially after…God Tony getting to touch your body…to see you…to enjoy you…God it was everything I've wanted and missed. Figures I'd screw it all up."

I looked up at him surprised. "What? What'd you screw up?" I sputtered.

Gibbs almost smiled. "I should have made sure Mike was inside…and should have asked him to stay inside. After what Jenny did to you…Tony please…you gotta understand I wouldn't ever want to make you feel bad. I don't want you to ever feel used or degraded because of me. I'm sorry this happened like it did."

I leaned in and kissed Gibbs before I could think better of it. Moments later Gibbs had shed his clothes and was climbing into the shower with me. "Told Mike to take a nice long walk," Gibbs breathed into my neck. I smiled and leaned into him. The warm water felt delicious and having Gibbs behind me felt even more delicious. I leaned back into him and enjoyed the moment, determined not to let anything screw this moment up.

"Tony," Gibbs breathed in my ear. I turned around and smiled at him. "I love you," he whispered.

I smiled wilder. "I love you too."

xxx

Three days later, the jeep showed back up. I was finally starting to feel human again. Mike came out onto the porch when the car drove up. Gibbs and I were working on the railing. It'd been knocked down during the storm the other night, so we were fixing it. Mike spoke with Leyla for only a moment before turning toward us.

"PROBIE!"

"What is it?" Gibbs didn't look up from what he was working on.

"Your agent is on the phone again."

"Which agent? Only agent of mine I want to talk to is right here," Gibbs still didn't look up.

"Gibbs it's David she can't find your probie."

"I don't have a probie anymore, Mike."

I looked up nervously. "What do you mean Mike?"

"Glad to see someone still gives a shit about their responsibilities," Mike grumbled.

"Didn't say that," I said. "I just asked what you meant by what you said."

"Seems McGee got sent on an undercover assignment. And now he's missing."

I looked at Gibbs who had finally stopped working. "Alright," he relented. "We'll go up and get the call." He looked at me and pointed a finger into my chest. "That means I'll talk and you will be very quiet so you don't give away your location."

I nodded. Sounded good to me. We hopped in Leyla's jeep and headed for the cantina.

Once Gibbs got on the phone and started listening to Ziva, his entire demeanor changed. Gibbs tilted the phone so I could hear it too.

"—_not know what I am supposed to do Gibbs! He texted me and all he said was 'made' and then I have not heard anymore from him. I do not know where he is or what his assignment is…I thought we were partners, but he has not told me where he has been for most of the past few days. I asked the director and she told me that he is on a special assignment and that I do not need to worry about him. But the text he sent me has me concerned. If he is working undercover and he has been made, then he could be in a great deal of danger."_

"Then you need to speak to the Director about it. McGee is a good agent, Ziva."

"_I know he is a good agent Gibbs!"_ Ziva snapped_. "We_ _are both good agents—but it is difficult to know what to do when our so-called Boss is missing in activity!"_

Gibbs covered the receiver and smiled at me. "Missing in ACTION!" I whispered loudly. Gibbs nodded and rolled his eyes, still smiling.

He uncovered the receiver and spoke into the phone. "Have you not located DiNozzo yet?" he asked sharply.

"_NO! Gibbs I do not have time to worry about him and whatever hook…hook…line…girl…he is with! I am worried about McGee and his safety!"_

"Yes you already said that. And I believe the word you are looking for is 'hooker' Ziva," Gibbs said patiently, but he winked at me. "I think if you have not heard from or seen DiNozzo in the last few days that you should make that your first priority and let the Director worry about McGee."

"_But—"_

I looked at Gibbs in shock. Why was he wanting Ziva to find me?

"DiNozzo is your Commanding Officer," Gibbs said, his voice taking on a level of steel. "Explain to me why no one seems to be concerned about his well-being and his location."

"_He is insufferable! A waste of skin! He is lazy and he uses other people to do his work! He takes credit for work everyone else does, he shows up late—if he shows up at all—he's—"_

"He is the person I selected to replace me when I left. He is the person—the one out of all of you—whom I thought was the right person to lead the team. You disappoint me Ziva. If you treat Tony anything close to the way you are describing me—then I think he would not be amiss to have you written up for insubordination. In fact, I think I will be speaking to the director."

"_GIBBS!"_

He hung up the phone. He totally just left her hanging, and hung up the phone. Then he turned and looked at me.

"What the hell Gibbs?" I sputtered.

Gibbs looked calmly at me. "Tony," his voice held a tone of warning. "I did what I did on purpose."

"You told her to go looking for me! She will find me!"

"No," Gibbs said, shaking his head. "She won't."

"How do you figure that?"

"She's too concerned about McGee. I'm sorry Tony but…Ziva…she doesn't really seem to care if you are found or not."

I felt like I'd been punched. I mean I guess I knew it all along, but sometimes the truth is hard to hear.

Gibbs rubbed up and down my arm gently. "Wanna head back to the cabin?" he asked. "We can talk all you want. We'll figure it out."

I looked at him. I was so angry. I just…didn't want to deal. "Whatever," I snapped. I turned without another word and stalked out of the cantina. I walked right past the truck and took off down the road. I heard Gibbs behind me, calling my name, but he wasn't giving me any orders, so I didn't stop. I just kept walking. I didn't know what to think. I figured Gibbs was probably right about what he said about Ziva and her not wanting to come look for me, but the off-chance remained that she MIGHT! And if she found me I'd be in a boatload of trouble for taking off the way I did—and really—the thoughts of what Jenny might do to me in such a situation did not excite me. I was worried about Tim. He was undercover for the director. Did that mean she'd reassigned my case to him? What was she thinking? Did she really think that, as agents, we were just expendable little pawns that she could use for—yes. Yes, that's exactly what she thought apparently. I couldn't believe that Gibbs didn't seem worried about him. He was our probie! My senior field agent! I was worried about Tim!

I heard the old truck pulling up behind me, but I didn't react. I wrapped my arms around my middle (my stomach was hurting—probably nerves) and I kept walking, studiously ignoring the truck that was now pulling up alongside me.

"Tony!" Gibbs called.

I ignored him. I didn't want to hear anymore.

"Tony please!" Gibbs called again. He'd slowed down so the truck was moving right next to me.

I stopped and stared at him, watching as he braked hard to stay with me and not roll ahead. "I don't want to do this anymore," I said quietly. "I'm tired Gibbs."

Gibbs hopped out of the truck and ran around to face me. "Tony," he breathed, and I swear I saw fear in his eyes. "Tony…what are you saying?"

I closed my eyes and bowed my head. "I don't know," I whispered. I felt Gibbs' arms close around me gently and it was nearly my undoing.

"I don't want you to leave," Gibbs whispered in my ear. "I'd be very sad without you."

I leaned into him a bit. "I just…I'm tired Gibbs…everywhere I go…nearly every person I meet…this always gets used against me. I don't want to do that anymore. I just want to live my life and be left alone and have people quit messing with me. I'm tired of being the pawn. I just want to feel safe."

Gibbs hugged me tighter. "You're safe with me," he said quietly. "Always safe with me."

I drew back at those words. "Ohhhh really?" I snarked, shaking my head. "Is that why you told Ziva to look for me? Newsflash Gibbs! I am not safe if Ziva knows where I am!"

Gibbs' hands were still on my shoulders, so I couldn't move too far away. His eyes searched mine carefully and he took a deep breath. "We need to talk," he said finally. "I need to know everything. I need to know why you think she's a threat. Can we talk? Will you let me take you back to the cabin?"

Thunder rumbled in the distance and I looked up at the darkening sky. I recalled the night I arrived and how badly it stormed. "Fine," I mumbled.

Gibbs wrapped an arm around my shoulders and guided me to the truck. "I know it's hard," Gibbs said quietly. "But can you try to trust me?"

I looked at him, my jaw unhinged. "I…I always trust you. You're the only one I trust," I whispered. "I thought you knew that."

"Well," Gibbs shrugged uneasily. "After everything that happened and everything I did…I didn't want to just assume…"

"Don't assume, verify," I said quietly, chuckling softly to myself.

"Rule number three," Gibbs said softly. He looked momentarily confused. "Right?"

"Three or eight," I said. "Depends on the day." I winked at him, but it was clipped short by a yawn.

Gibbs slid into the driver's seat and took my hand after he put the truck in gear. We drove back to the cabin in silence.

xxx

When we got back, we were both mildly surprised to see that one of Mike's horses was gone, and Mike was nowhere to be found. "Must've gone for a ride," Gibbs said. "He does that sometimes."

I nodded. It was fine with me—meant the crusty old bastard wouldn't butt in on our conversation. I paced around the room, fingering the curtain lightly and the back of the beat up couch, and the brim of the lampshade. Gibbs met me in the middle of the room, halfway through my third lap around the room. He smiled at me and I offered a weak smile in return. He guided me to the couch and pulled me down onto it. I knew he was letting me have the space and time I needed to get my thoughts together, but…the truth was I really had no intention of telling him anything.

"Tony," Gibbs said, his voice pleading. "I wish you would talk to me."

I snorted. "Why don't you just order me then? Make me talk so you'll feel better."

"I don't want to control you," Gibbs said, his exasperation evident in his tone. "But I need to know what happened."

"Which time?" I snapped.

"Which…all of the times!" Gibbs exclaimed. "I need to know what happened to you. From the beginning. Wherever you think the beginning is."

I took a deep breath, hating myself for what I was about to say. "I need you to order me to do it. I'm too tired to fight you off if you tell me to do something and…and I'm not sure I'll be able to tell it otherwise," I admitted.

Gibbs looked absolutely dumbfounded. He didn't know what to do with that. Finally he took a deep breath and nodded. "Tell me what happened with you and Ziva," he said gently, but my body recognized the order without trouble. "Tell me all of it."

I looked out the window as I felt the tug of the order wash over me. It was starting to rain. Quietly, I began to speak.

TBC…


	10. Made

**Author's Note:** I am really playing with canon here. Bear with me! Vague spoilers for Bury Your Dead—but not in the way you're expecting! And trust me—if this was going to have a character death in it, I'd totally warn you ;) Just remember that. K?

_Thanks as always to my wonderful beta, Gotgoats, without whose help this story would have died a painful death many weeks ago…_

**Compelled **

**Chapter 10: Made**

I jerked out of the doze I'd drifted into and looked at my surroundings through squinted eyes. It had been three days since I'd talked to Gibbs. Three days since I told him about everything that had happened while he was gone, the way the team had treated me, the way other agents had treated me, and the way the director had treated me. I was still worried about Tim (last we heard he had not been located) but I was also beginning to see that it was ok for me to be worried about me too. I was a mess. And now, here I was, shacked up in Gibbs' basement—the one place no one would think to look for me. Gibbs and I had arrived here last night. We'd snuck back into town, knowing that NCIS was probably watching the airports surrounding Washington for any sign of me showing back up. We'd flown into Richmond's airport, rented a car, and drove two hours up the road to Gibbs' house just outside of DC.

I'd been in the basement ever since. Since people had an uncanny propensity to drop in unannounced at Gibbs' house, we figured it'd be better for me to be out of sight in the event someone showed up. By being in the basement, if someone came in unannounced, I'd have time to slip into the Root Cellar before anyone noticed me. Gibbs had taken off some time ago, heading to NCIS for answers. Over the past few days he looked angrier than I could remember him looking in quite some time. I hated the way his anger made me feel…I knew it was not my fault—but I caused it. I was the one that brought it to him. I was the one who stirred it up…

_**Flashback**_

"_I need to know what happened to you. From the beginning. Wherever you think the beginning is."_

_I took a deep breath, hating myself for what I was about to say. "I need you to order me to do it. I'm too tired to fight you off if you tell me to do something and…and I'm not sure I'll be able to tell it otherwise," I admitted._

_Gibbs looked absolutely dumbfounded. He didn't know what to do with that. Finally he took a deep breath and nodded. "Tell me what happened with you and Ziva," he said gently, but my body recognized the order without trouble. "Tell me all of it."_

_I looked out the window as I felt the tug of the order wash over me. It was starting to rain. Quietly, I began to speak._

_*flash*_

_I sat quietly for a long time, staring at my lap once I'd finished my tale. It wasn't a happy story I'd shared. I didn't want to look at Gibbs. I didn't want to see his reaction. I'd told him about Jenny and what she'd done to me earlier, but…I hadn't been as…in depth as I was this time around. I told him about what happened with Ziva, with the team, how Abby and even to some degree Ducky had treated me in Gibbs' absence. I told him more about the undercover op Jenny wanted to send me on—ordered me to participate in—and how I'd managed to evade it, and how Tim had been put in my place instead. I explained to him why I was so worried about Tim. _

_But all of that was done now. Now the facts were out, the story was told, and I could bask in the silence. The silence that made my insides twist up in a knot. I was so ashamed of the role I'd played in all of this; I could just vomit thinking about it. I knew Gibbs would be disgusted—I knew he'd want to have nothing to do with me—hell, he'd probably call Jenny up and tell her where her useless team leader was located._

_I fought down the urge to flinch when Gibbs put his hands on my shoulders._

"_Tony," his voice was so soft. He moved one hand from my shoulder to my chin and he slowly tilted my face up. "Look at me Tony."_

_I stared up at him reluctantly. It figured he was going to make me look him in the eye for my rejection. I was completely surprised then, when he leaned in and kissed me. "Thank you for telling me," he said. "Now we need to go and book two flights home—one for each of us. Because heads are going to roll. I will not tolerate you being treated in such a manner. This is unacceptable."_

_**End Flashback**_

I blinked as I came back from the memory I'd wandered into. I heard a noise. It sounded like the back door opening. Quick as a flash I slid off the couch that Gibbs kept in the basement and eased over to the door to the Root Cellar. I slipped inside and pull the door shut behind me, sealing me in the darkness.

I fought down a shudder as a thought went through me. I recalled a conversation that Gibbs and I had once, after watching a serial killer trilogy on television.

_**Flashback**_

"_Lots of creative kills in that movie," Gibbs commented idly._

"_Ha, yeeeeeeeeeah," I agreed, still shivering over the last one. "They hit on my top three list."_

"_Which top three list is that?" Gibbs took a swig of beer._

"_My 'Top Three Worst Ways To Die' list," I replied, taking a sip of my own beer._

_Gibbs half-smiled and shook his head. "Alright. Lay it on me. Let's hear it."_

_I smiled nervously. I'd never actually shared this with anyone before. "Uh…Number one. Getting eaten by a shark."_

"_Ouch," Gibbs said with a wince. "Yeah that'd hurt."_

"_Uh huh," I nodded. "Um. Number two. Being buried alive."_

"_Explains your fear of closed in spaces," Gibbs said with a nod._

"_Number three," I continued, steadfastly ignoring Gibbs' last comment, "Falling into a wood chipper."_

"_I don't think I wanna know why you think about these things Tony," Gibbs said, shaking his head. The affection in his voice was audible though._

"_I think the worst way ever would be to be buried alive though. I mean the other two are over pretty quick. Shark gets a good bite in, or you fall head first in the chipper and you're pretty well done for. Buried alive? That takes a while. I mean you have to lay there and suffer and struggle to breathe—you know you're going to die, but you have to wait for it." I shivered._

_**End Flashback**_

It occurred to me, standing in the root cellar that this would be a perfect place to wall up a dead body. No one would ever find it here! I shivered in the dampness. There were footsteps coming down the stairs. I really hoped it was Gibbs. A moment later the door to the root cellar flew open and I blinked. Gibbs.

"Jesus," I breathed out. Then my eyes widened. Ducky was here too.

"Ok Tony?" Gibbs asked, looking at me with concern.

I swallowed hard and nodded. "Fine," I said, stepping out of the small, enclosed, tight, dark—

"Jethro I dare say that root cellar looks like the niche described by Edgar Allen Poe in which the young protagonist in The Cask of Amontillado was buried alive in," Ducky said with a chuckle. "Anthony you are lucky to have such a trustworthy partner—otherwise we might never find you!" He chuckled some more.

I sent Gibbs a pleading look. "Hey Ducky," I said softly.

Ducky smiled warmly at me. "I am so glad to see you are alright," he said softly. "It's good to see you dear boy."

"I need you to check that he really is alright," Gibbs said. "After everything he's been through, I'm not taking any chances with his health."

"Quite right Jethro, quite right." Ducky stepped up to me. "May I examine you?"

I looked at him for a long moment. "I have one question, before I let you touch me," I said evenly.

Ducky stopped his advancing toward me and nodded. "Absolutely. You may ask me anything you like."

"Can I trust you? Because the list of people I trust has gotten very. short."

Ducky swallowed and nodded. "I…I understand. Anthony I can assure you that anything we discuss between us will be held in the utmost confidence. You can trust me dear boy."

"Is that why you told Abby all about the trouble I was having when I talked to you before? You know, when Jethro was gone?"

Ducky had the decency to look embarrassed. "I…I don't have any excuse for my behavior," he told me quietly.

"Anything we talk about here is private Duck," I said. "That means that no matter who asks you or how many pouty faces Abby gives you, this information doesn't get shared."

"I understand Anthony. You have my word and my full discretion. I will not let you down."

"And you will answer to me if you do," Gibbs said tartly.

I fought down the urge to smile, and relented to Ducky and his poking and prodding.

xxx

Ducky stayed for a while, checked me from top to bottom, nose to toes, and when he was finished, he stroked his chin, frowned, and declared me _unfit_ for active duty. I raised my eyebrows in askance, but Gibbs beat me to it.

"What's wrong with him?" he asked. "Does he need a hospital?"

"Not as of now," Ducky said. "However," and he pointed a strict finger at my nose, "If you do not get some rest, eat some decent food, and start taking care of yourself, then you will need further medical assistance."

I nodded. "I understand," I said. "Thanks Ducky."

Ducky patted me on the shoulder. "Do try to take care of yourself. Are you going to let the Director know you are back in town?"

"She knows," Gibbs said simply. "I made sure she knows that you're in town, and that you're unavailable."

"You WHAT?!" I took a step back from Gibbs. What the hell?

"Tony," Gibbs said patiently. He has this patronizing tone he sometimes gets and it just infuriates me. "I talked to Jenny. I told her I'd spoken with you and that you were in DC and that you were not available. I handled it. You're safe. It's alright."

I took a step away from him. "No," I said, shaking my head. "No I don't think so—this…this is…I thought you said I'd be safe—she'll find me!" I started towards the basement steps. "I have to get out of here. Gotta go…can't let Jenny find me…" I had my foot on the first step when a hand wrapped around my wrist. I whipped around, hand raised, ready to strike, and saw Gibbs' concerned gaze watching me. "I…" I dropped my hand. "Sorry," I whispered.

"Tony do you trust me?" He'd asked me that several times over the past few days since I'd shown up on Mike Franks' doorstep.

I looked at him. Did I trust him? I seemed to always come back to that question. "I…" I had no idea what to say. I had no idea what the answer to that question was. "I'm sorry," I whispered. I jerked my hand free and hauled ass up the stairs. I didn't know what to do or who to trust or where to go. Where would I be safe?

"Tony!" Gibbs called after me. I kept running. I didn't know where I was going, and I was almost anticipating the order before he even said it. "Tony stop!" My feet locked into place so fast I nearly face-planted on the floor.

He was running up the stairs behind me, even as I dropped to my knees with my head in my hands. "I'm sorry Tony," Gibbs said. He dropped to his knees beside me.

I looked up at him. "I want to trust you," I whispered.

"How can I help you do that?" Gibbs asked me.

I stared at him dumbly. No one had ever asked me a question like that before. "Just…just please…please be honest with me. Don't tell me one thing and do another. Please."

Gibbs put his hands on my shoulders and drew me close to him then. "You have my word," he said quietly. "I promise I will never betray you. Jenny does not have the information she needs to find you. I will keep you safe. I promise."

Ducky left not long after that. He promised to check back up on me and to keep my location a secret. "I believe you could let him out of the basement Jethro," he'd said.

"I don't think so," Jethro said. "People show up here too randomly—I can't have him found. Not even by a friend."

Ducky couldn't help but agree with that assessment. He told me to keep warm—autumn was fast approaching and with the scarring on my lungs from the plague I was more susceptible to illnesses than I'd once been.

As if Gibbs needed another reason to be protective.

Once he was gone, Gibbs helped me to my feet and we slowly made our way back down the stairs into the basement. "Are you hungry?" I shook my head. Not hungry. "You've barely eaten in a week—probably longer than that, but I've only been with you a week. You need food. You're wasting away to nothing!"

We settled on the couch in the basement, heads tucked in close, Gibbs' arms wrapped around me securely, but not too tightly.

"I want to know what happened with the Director," I said quietly.

Gibbs sighed and leaned his head back against the cushions. I shifted so my head was in his lap and I could see his face.

"I called Jenny," he started quietly. "And told her I was back in town and needed to talk to her."

"Right," I said. "You did that here in the basement."

"Right," Gibbs said. "So I went to NCIS to meet her."

"Has she replaced me?" I asked softly.

"Nope," Gibbs shook his head. "She'd have to admit to making a mistake in order to fire you. She's placed you out on medical leave."

"How'd you talk her into that?"

"I didn't," Gibbs said softly. "She'd already made that determination by herself before I got there. I asked her if she'd spoken with you, as I'd gotten several calls from Ziva stating that you had gone missing."

"What'd she say?"

Gibbs snorted. "Fucking bitch lied to me," he muttered. "She told me of COURSE she'd spoken with you—that you'd been in the hospital for an appendicitis and that you would be back on desk duty soon."

I blinked. "She lied to you? Didn't she know that you'd catch on?"

Gibbs shrugged. "She seems…different. Maybe I'm just not remembering it right."

"Oh no I think you are. She was acting a lot different—ever since you knocked your head in that explosion it's like…"

"It's like what Tony?" Gibbs asked.

"It's like she's in love with you or something. It's like she wants you all to herself. She didn't want me near you in the hospital. Didn't want me near you after you were released either. God this is such a mess…" I moaned. "I can't help but think…" I sighed. "Would things be better for you if I left?"

The headslap rocked me forward slightly. "Where would you go? What would you do? Who would watch your six?"

"I don't know, I don't know, and me," I replied. "Same as always. I've always been on my own—ever since…" I broke off suddenly and my eyes widened. I hadn't spoken of my mother in years.

"Hey it's ok," Gibbs said gently. "You're tough Tony, and smart enough to take care of yourself, but…but no one should have to do it all on their own."

"What else happened with Jenny? Where's McGee?"

"She sent McGee undercover to look for the Frog. He's been out of contact for going on four days now. She's got a team looking for him. They started at his last known location and found his cell phone and the tracker that Abby'd put under his skin."

I shivered. Then a thought struck me. "I have one too," I said softly.

"We'll get Ducky to remove it," Gibbs assured me. "They aren't going to find you."

"But what if they do?" Christ I hadn't even thought of that damn tracker since Abby'd stuck the little bugger in my arm, months earlier.

"They won't. If I have to cut your arm off I will keep you safe. Hear me?"

I nodded, but my hand ran over my forearm traitorously, as though trying to gouge it out myself. "She's going to use this information against me," I said quietly. "There's going to be no way to stop her."

"I'm keeping my eye on her. She's got…experience…with people like you. She knows what it means to be an Opsequensotype."

I looked at Gibbs like he'd grown another head. "How does she know that?"

Gibbs took a deep breath and traced his fingers up and down my arm slowly. "Because…when we were working undercover together…fifteen years ago…one of our contacts was…like you," he said uncomfortably.

"What happened?" I asked. I could tell by Gibbs' body language that the story did not have a happy ending.

"It um…it didn't end well. Jenny…she didn't follow her orders. Our contact ended up being murdered."

I swallowed hard, needing more information. "How…how did the contact die?"

Gibbs sighed. "Jenny…she got a bit of a power trip when she learned that our contact's body insisted on following orders. She spoke more than once about what it would be like to have a 'puppet'…to have someone who has to do what she ordered them to…" Gibbs shuddered.

_**Flashback**_

_Director Sheppard stood up and walked to her desk. She handed me a black and white three by five inch photograph of a beautiful woman. "This is your assignment. Her name is Jeanne Benoit."_

"_Ohhhhhhhh kay. Not exactly my type," I said softly._

"_Sure she is," Jenny said._

"_No," I said softly. "She isn't."_

_Jenny looked at me and her eyes were like flint. "Yes," she said softly. "She is your type. You just love her don't you? Look how pretty she is."_

_My eyes turned to the picture and I knew this would be my hardest resistance yet. "You could just fall in love with her couldn't you?"_

"_No," I whispered. "No I won't do it. Not to me…not to Gibbs," I murmured._

_Jenny drew the picture away and my eyes tried to follow it. She smiled wickedly. "Gibbs?! Seriously!" Uh oh. I'd just fucked up big time. I hadn't meant to say that out loud. Jenny leaned in towards me and her smile widened and I swear I could see Satan staring back at me. "Forget Gibbs," she said—knowing EXACTLY what she was saying._

_I hadn't had emotion like that wash over me since Baltimore—the day they told me to hop off the Key Bridge. I shook my head. "I can't…I won't…no I won't," I whispered, shaking my head desperately. "You can't make me do this! You can't!"_

"_I can," she said, a sinister tone to her voice. "And I will. You're mine DiNozzo. To do whatever I please with. And I'm telling you to forget Gibbs, forget whatever relationship you have dreamed up, and you will fall in love with your mark, Jeanne Benoit."_

_I took a deep, calming breath and nodded. "I understand," I said softly. I had to get out of there. I had to go now. I had to do…SOMETHING…I had to get around this…_

"_Take this photo with you. Memorize her face. Memorize everything you can learn about her. And do not say a word of this to anyone. This is top secret. Understand?"_

"_I understand," I said…_

_**End Flashback**_

"Gibbs," I breathed, still caught in the memory. I sat up and grabbed his arm frantically. "Gibbs…she…I…"

Gibbs put his hands on my shoulders, his eyes wide and searching, and his thumbs stroked my body softly. "Take it easy," he soothed. "Think through it—think about what you want to say."

"She wants to use me," I breathed. "She said…She said I'm hers. That she can do whatever she wants to me…Gibbs…?"

Gibbs cupped my face in his hands and his eyes glared at me in a piercing stare. "I. will. keep. you. safe. I know this is hard—everyone you've ever trusted has betrayed you. But…I'm asking you…asking you to trust me. I'm asking you to…to take a chance…one more time. I won't let you down."

"I…I'll try," I said softly. "But…but if this…if it doesn't work—if Jenny finds me—I…I'm not responsible for what happens. I'd rather die than be controlled by anyone like her again. I had that with Robby already. I can't…I won't do that again."

Gibbs seemed to freeze at my words. I wondered fleetingly if he thought I was bluffing. I would not be in a situation like that again. If I had to die to escape it, that's what I'd do. I reclined against Gibbs again, spent.

To my surprise, he pulled out his cell phone. I could feel his arm moving and I wondered who he was calling.

"Duck? Need ya to turn around and come back," Gibbs said. He listened for a moment. "Learned something…need your help." He listened for a minute more. "Thanks Duck. Door's open. We're right where you left us." He snapped the phone shut.

"What do we need Ducky here for?" I asked.

"Gonna get him to cut that tracker out of your arm." I gasped and looked up at Gibbs. He looked steadily at me, a sad smile on his face. "Gonna keep you safe," he promised. "Told you I would. And I know you won't relax until that bug's outta your arm. I'll even let you crush it."

I smiled and leaned against him again. Maybe I could trust him after all.

xxx

After I'd been in Gibbs' basement for a week, I was beginning to go stir crazy. Late one evening, I begged Gibbs to let me upstairs. I'd be quiet and stay away from the windows, but for the love of God I needed out of that basement. I was going to start growing mold.

Gibbs smirked at me and nodded and together we headed up the stairs. We kept the lights low and the first thing I did was run for the shower. It was, quite possibly, the best, most awesome, most amazing shower I had EVER taken. I got out, dressed quickly, and hurried back down the stairs. We ate a quiet dinner at the table—I felt so civilized—and just as we were finishing up our beer we heard a car pull in.

I looked up at Gibbs in shock and horror, and his expression matched my own. Without another word, I turned and hauled ass for the basement. I needed to be inside that root cellar before whoever was on their way got to the front door. I made it to the fourth step down on Gibbs' rickety basement steps before my feet got tangled up and I fell. I gasped in fear—convinced I might die—and tried to tuck my body so that it rolled and bounced as gracefully as possible to the bottom. I landed on the floor with a solid thump and didn't take time to make sure I was even ok before I was moving again. I know Gibbs had to have heard me falling, but his lack of presence told me that he was running defense for me. I dragged my aching body over to the root cellar and threw myself inside, shutting the door as quietly as possible.

And not a moment too soon. A second after I took my hand off the doorknob, I heard footsteps on the stairs. Two sets of footsteps. Yep, we definitely had company.

My ankle was hurting pretty badly and I was fairly convinced I'd either sprained or broken my wrist. It was burning and aching like a bastard. My shoulder was also dislocated. I could tell by the way it wasn't hanging the way it was supposed to that I'd knocked it out of place. I'd need to set that. But I couldn't do it yet—had to wait for our unannounced visitor to leave first.

And then I heard her voice. Ziva had come to visit.

"What can I do for you Ziva?" Gibbs' voice was quieter than Ziva's. He was standing over by the workbench. I could hear footsteps. Ziva was pacing. She was nervous about something.

"I need your help Gibbs," she said brusquely.

"We established that," Gibbs said tersely. "I'm asking what you want from me?"

"I need your help to locate Tim," she said quietly. "I have been unable to locate him on my own."

"In case you've forgotten, I don't work at NCIS anymore," Gibbs said. Apparently it wasn't common news around the water cooler that Gibbs was just out on medical leave too.

"I know that but—"

"Then why'd you come here?"

"Because the Director will not listen to me and Agent McGee is in danger!" Ziva snapped.

"What do you mean she won't listen to you?"

"I mean I have begged her to let me run searches or scans to see if I can find any information on his whereabouts and she turns me down every time. I have begged her to search for him, but she refuses! She is so caught up in her…what do you call it…_agenda_ that she is not interested in keeping her agents safe! I am very concerned."

"Have you heard from Agent DiNozzo yet?" Gibbs asked, knowing exactly what the answer would be.

"No I have not," Ziva snapped. "I hope the director fires him for his absence. Really Gibbs he has been gone nearly two weeks—there is no sign of him. No trace!"

"Have you searched for him?"

"I…"

"Because it didn't take me long to find him and contact him," Gibbs said. "In fact, it was absolutely elementary—I think even a probie agent could have done it. So I will ask you again, Agent Daveeeed," Gibbs drew out her name just like I do—did. I needed to focus though. Gibbs was still talking. "Have you searched for Agent DiNozzo?"

"No," she said softly.

"No!" Gibbs exclaimed. "No you didn't. And why is that?"

"Because—"

"Because you think Tony is incapable of helping you. You think he's better off gone. Out of sight out of mind. Well let me tell you something Agent David," and Gibbs' voice dropped very low here. "Tony is hands down The. Best. Agent I have ever worked with. He can investigate circles around you and Agent McGee combined—and you would do well to remember YOUR place on HIS team. And your team leader has been out of contact for two weeks. You have not started searching for him. Why not?"

"Well…because Agent McGee is—"

"Agent DiNozzo was missing before Agent McGee was."

"Y-yes, but—"

"I don't think there are any buts needed there. I think your priorities are out of line. Did the Director tell you not to look for Tony?"

There was silence. Ziva was quiet.

"Did. Director Sheppard. Tell you. NOT. To look. For Agent DiNozzo?" Gibbs spoke slowly, each word slamming into her like a punch. I wanted to squee like a school girl. Christ the man was sexy.

"I do not know," Ziva finally murmured.

"You—WHAT?!" Gibbs snapped. "Explain."

"I do not know what she told me. I do not remember."

There was another pause. I could just imagine Gibbs' glare staring her down, and I wondered briefly how long it would take him to break her. As it turns out? About four seconds.

"She told me to forget," Ziva whispered.

I slapped a hand over my mouth. What the hell?!

"WHAT THE HELL?!" Gibbs roared out my question for me.

"Yes," Ziva murmured. "Yes it is true. I am an Opsequensotype."

"It wasn't in your dossier," Gibbs snapped.

"It was not in Tony's either," Ziva snapped in return.

"Point," Gibbs said. "Well. There's only one thing to do."

"What is that?"

"I will need you to prove it to me."

"But you did not make Tony pro—"

"How do you know what I did or did not do with Agent DiNozzo? You were not here then Ziva!"

"I am sorry Gibbs. I did not mean tha—"

"So if you are a true Opsequensotype then you will have no troubles following orders I give you," Gibbs said conversationally.

I stared at the door to the root cellar in horror. What the hell kind of game were they playing? Part of me wanted to march out there and beat the shit out of her, and part of me knew she'd likely shoot me on sight if I tried it.

"I am required to take orders from anyone who gives them to me," Ziva said.

"Then you are released from your former orders from Director Sheppard," Gibbs said. "Tell me what you know. Tell me all of it."

There was another pause. "I am sorry Gibbs," Ziva said softly. "I already told you I cannot remember."

"You are not a true Opsequensotype then," Gibbs snapped.

"Why do you say that? How dare you question me!"

"How dare you lie to me!" Gibbs retorted.

"What?!" Ziva gasped. "I do not understand—Gibbs I have not lied to you!"

I heard the sound of Gibbs pulling his handgun. I heard the click as he released the safety and chambered a bullet. And then I heard Ziva gasp. "You mean to tell me," Gibbs said, "That you are an opsequensotype who cannot follow orders? Because my experience tells me those people don't exist. If you are a true opequensotype, and I order you to remember something, and release you from orders to forget, that memory returns. If I put this gun to your head and I told you to tell me what you know or I will shoot you—would you tell me?"

"I cannot," Ziva moaned.

"THEN YOU ARE LYING TO ME!" Gibbs roared.

"How do you know that I am lying!" Ziva screamed.

There was a pause. And when Gibbs spoke his voice was very quiet. "Get out of my house. Stay away from my team."

"We are not YOUR team! We are Director She—"

"You stay away from my team. You understand me? Or I will end you myself. I will be speaking with the SecNav. Your contract—your _liaison_ position—will be terminated. And you will be sent back to Israel where you belong. Though it's much less than you deserve. If it were up to me you'd be sent to Guantanamo."

"Guanta—Gibbs why? What did I do?"

"You do not torture your fellow agents," Gibbs said coldly. "I know all about you and what you have done."

"You spoke to Agent DiNozzo," Ziva breathed.

"I did," Gibbs said. There was a shuffling sound and Gibbs spoke again. "You won't find him. He isn't here. He isn't even in DC anymore."

"But the Director said—" she broke off suddenly.

"The director said _what_," Gibbs snapped.

"She said that you told her you were in contact with him and he was in town."

"Was, is the operative word. Was. As in, not now. As in, not coming back."

"He is gone then," Ziva said.

"Do you blame him?" Gibbs scoffed. "Everyone treated him like shit—including me. He deserves better than he received here. And you won't find him. I can assure you of that."

"Of course I will not find him. I will not look for him. Tony is useless to me. He is useless to this team. He is better off dead."

I heard footsteps on the stairs then. I stayed still. I could feel the pain starting to register. My shoulder, my ankle, my wrist, my ribs, my head, mostly my heart hurt…Christ I hurt all over. A few minutes later the door jerked open and I stared at Gibbs. His face was washed with anger, but also with concern. "Are you alright?" he asked gruffly. I could tell he was trying to push down the anger. "I heard you fall."

"Yeah…I…I think I broke…everything," I mumbled, leaning into Gibbs when he supported me.

"Jesus you're pale…We need to get you somewhere that you can rest in a bed," Gibbs said quietly. "You don't need to be stuck in this damp basement…especially with your lungs…"

"Upstairs?" I asked softly. "Bedroom? Please?"

Gibbs nodded. "Ok with me. I'll just keep everyone steered towards the basement. Do you need help walking?"

I took a tentative step and felt my ankle twinge in pain. I hissed and Gibbs supported me with a hand on my elbow. I winced in pain. "Shoulder's…dislocated," I forced out. I felt like hell. "Needa…pop it back…"

"I'm calling Ducky," Gibbs said. He led me over to the couch and helped me lower slowly onto it.

"He's gonna get sicka me," I muttered.

"It's been a few days since he was here last," Gibbs said with a snarky smile. He was already dialing the phone.

xxx

A couple of hours later I blinked my eyes open. I had no idea what time it was, and the angle I was propped in kept me from being able to see out the window. I figured it must be late evening. My arm was in a sling and felt less out of place than it had earlier, my right side was on fire, and my foot was propped up on a pillow with a bag of peas on it. Long story short? I felt like shit—I felt like I'd been pushed down the stairs.

If only I'd been pushed.

Nooo I had to do that allll on my own. Genius. Pure genius.

My brain felt foggy. I'd been drugged. Who drugged me? Where the hell was I? Last I remember I was in the basement…I shifted slightly and groaned when I moved my strained shoulder. The beauty of a dislocated joint is its usually easy to slip back into place. The hell of it is when it moves out of place it rearranges all of the muscles in the group with it. Oh it hurts. My mouth felt dry and my tongue was thick—seriously I had the hangover without the party.

"Tony?" I heard the sound of movement and lifted my eyes to see Gibbs heading towards me from the hall. "You ok?"

"Mmmm," I mumbled. "Hurts."

"Yeah," Gibbs said quietly. He readjusted the pillow under my sprained ankle. "Ducky gave you a shot of the good stuff. He said it should last a while."

"It's lastin'," I said. "Still hurts."

"Yeah," Gibbs said again.

I stared at him. Something was up. Something was bothering him. "What is it?" I asked softly.

Gibbs shook his head, but I knew he was lying. "Don't lie to me," I begged. "Tell me."

He looked at me for a long moment, and then he sighed and ran a hand over his face. "The Director came by."

My eyes narrowed. I'd missed that. Slept right through it. "Does she know I'm here?" I asked quietly.

"Nope," Gibbs shook his head. "Made sure of it. But…there's something…something big."

"Will ya just tell me?" My gut was churning. I wondered what Gibbs knew.

"Tim's been located," he said softly. "They found him this afternoon."

"They…found…is he alright?"

Gibbs was quiet. Too quiet. "Gibbs? Is Tim alright?"

"His car…exploded. This afternoon. Ducky's doing the autopsy now."

I felt like someone had sucked all the air out of my lungs—and I know what that feels like—Tim…our probie…my senior field agent…I'd failed him…I let him down and now he'd been made and he'd been killed…

"Tony? With me?"

"I should have gone back," I choked. "I should have done the op…this is all my fault."

Before Gibbs could answer, we heard the front door open. Gibbs let out a long breath. "This is NOT your fault. Hear me? Stay put."

As if I could get up. Really Gibbs, ya didn't need to order me. I watched as he left the room, my heart heavy. I couldn't get the image out of my head. Tim…his car a burning heap…Tim burned…Ducky doing the autopsy. And then I heard Gibbs' voice and it drew me out of my reverie.

"What the hell?"

TBC…


	11. Rat Problem

**Author's Note: **Before I get fussed at anymore, let me throw out a couple of disclaimers. 1—I am not mentally ill, nor do I need "serious psychological help" (Thank you to my anonymous reader for that LOVELY message you sent me) and 2—I know that Gibbs got out of the Marines and joined NIS. However for my brain and spellchecker's sake, I'm going to just skip that and we're going to pretend (there I go again, changing canon) that NCIS was always NCIS and that it's never had a different name. Thanks! :) PS: Beware the ending! O:)

**Compelled  
****Chapter 11: Rat Problem****  
**

I pushed myself up on my elbow, wondering who or what Gibbs had run into, and I groaned when it hurt. Shit. I could hear muffled voices, but no one I recognized. I heard some bumping and shuffling and wanted nothing more than to get out of bed.

Before I could force my body into motion, however, two figures appeared in the bedroom doorway.

"Tim?" I sputtered, absolutely gobsmacked. I could not believe my eyes. "You're…alive?"

"Tony?" Tim's voice was hesitant. "You…where have you been? We've been looking everywhere for you?!"

"I…"

"He needed to get away," Gibbs said tersely. "Now tell me what the hell happened to you? Where have you been?"

"I was…working undercover…for the Director," Tim said, stumbling over his words slightly.

"We know," Gibbs said.

"She said Tony was supposed to…do the op…but once he disappeared…she passed it on to me."

"How'd you end up here?" I asked.

"I got made. My car exploded this morning."

"We know," Gibbs said. "Ducky's doing your autopsy right now."

Tim blinked. "But I'm not dead? Am I? Am I dreaming this?"

"You aren't dreaming Tim," Gibbs said gently. "You're alive. Ducky's obviously doing an autopsy on someone else. It will be interesting to find out who that person is."

"What are you doing here Tim?" I asked softly. "Gibbs was in Mexico last you knew…"

Tim blinked. "I…I didn't think…I was just reacting…and…and here seemed like the safest place to come…"

"You did good Tim," Gibbs said. "We'll get ya taken care of."

"Tony? What happened to you?"

"I fell down the stairs," I said. He looked for a moment like he didn't believe me, but then Gibbs cut in.

"He tried to get blood on my basement. You know how hard it is to clean up blood."

"You said you got made," I said to Tim, ignoring Gibbs. "How? Tell us what happened."

"Well I am—was—undercover at night after work…I've been looking everywhere for you. It's not like you to disappear like that. Anyway, I'd been out of the office for a day or so and I wanted to see if anyone had heard from you, so I called Ziva."

I snorted. I couldn't help myself. "Fat lotta good that'll do ya. She hates me, Probie."

"What happened after you called Ziva?" Gibbs asked.

"It wasn't long…really wasn't long at all…two guys showed up. Said they worked for the Fr—for my mark…and that he wanted to talk to me."

Gibbs rubbed his forehead. Then a thought struck him—I saw it happen. Gibbs figured it out. "Tim what'd you say on the phone to Ziva?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary. Why?"

"How long were you on the phone?"

I was beginning to catch on—and I didn't like what Gibbs was hinting at.

"Two or three minutes…why?"

"Long enough to run a trace?" I asked.

Tim blanched and Gibbs supported him when his knees looked like they might buckle. Gibbs moved him to a chair and made him sit. "Take it easy," Gibbs said. Poor Gibbs was about to the limits of his stress level. He was going to explode if this all kept up. "We don't know anything for sure—we can't prove anything!"

A thought occurred to me then—something tickling right on the edge of my memory. "Gibbs!" I turned toward him with a shocked look on my face. "Gibbs I know how to fix it! You gotta order me to remember—she's made me forget stuff—you've gotta make me remember what Ziva told me to forget!"

Gibbs rounded on me then, confusion in his features. "What do you know?" he asked me. "What is it?"

"It…I don't know…for sure…but that's because she told me to forget—Gibbs please! It happened that day she and I were locked in the storage container! Do you remember that?"

"I remember it," Gibbs said softly. "What happened?"

"We were talking, and she kept telling me to relax and to not worry about what she was saying, and to not even think about what she was saying—Gibbs you gotta tell me to remember!"

"What's he talking about Boss?" Tim mumbled softly.

"Tony…think hard DiNozzo. Remember what Ziva told you," Gibbs ordered me gently.

I gasped as the memories washed over me, and I groaned in pain. Gibbs was right beside me, supporting me through all of it, his eyes carefully searching mine. "You ok?"

"Oh…Oh God," I moaned, clutching onto Gibbs' wrist with my good hand. "Oh God…Gibbs…oh God…"

"What. Is. IT?" Patience was wearing thinner by the second.

"She's a double agent," I whispered, horrified. "She's just like Ari," I blinked as the memory washed over me again. "She's just like Ari. Gibbs! Gibbs she—she told me all about it—she told me about how it's her job to…to eliminate us," I whispered. "And then she made me forget. Oh God…Oh Gibbs I'm sorry!"

"Rule number six Tony," Gibbs said gently. He looked between me and Tim and shook his head. "We'll get it sorted out. We'll take care of it."

xxx

Gibbs called Ducky who came and took Tim to the hospital. Gibbs called Fornell and ordered to Feebies to watch out for "John Doe" while he was laid up. Normally he would have called NCIS, but because it was obvious there was something fishy going on, he decided to skip them altogether and not let on that we knew Tim was alive. If the Director and Ziva wanted to believe Tim was dead…well…we'd help them do that.

Once they were gone, Gibbs turned to me. "We have to stop them," he said.

"How are we going to do that? I can't even hardly stand up," I retorted softly.

"I'm going to make a call. Do you want to be in on this or would you rather lay low and keep your location a secret?"

"Depends on who you're calling in," I said.

"SECNAV," Gibbs said softly.

Charles Davenport, the Secretary of the Navy. Our ultimate superior—the Director's boss, and Gibbs' longtime friend. Gibbs met Davenport way back when he was in the military. Gibbs got out of the Marines and became an NCIS agent, and Davenport remained in the Navy and worked his way up through the ranks, eventually taking on the position of highest command in the US Navy. The fact that Gibbs and Davenport were good buddies was a card everyone played close to their chest. They were both content to not let that become common water cooler knowledge. I knew that with Davenport on the job with Gibbs that not only would they see results, but they'd keep me safe in the process.

"I wanna be in on it," I said. "But I don't want to tell him that I'm an Opsequensotype."

Gibbs nodded. "I wasn't planning to tell him. Just was going to let him know you were in a dangerous situation and were told some information in the hopes that you would not survive to pass it along."

I gulped. I hadn't ever thought of it like that before.

"Hey," Gibbs said. "You ok?"

"I'm ok," I said. I had to be. Dammit.

Gibbs leaned down and kissed me gently. "We're gonna get 'em alright? We're going to take care of it."

xxx

I fell asleep not long after Ducky and Tim left. I knew Gibbs was going to call Davenport, and then my secret would likely be out. I tried not to think about that. I didn't know what that would mean for me. I was willing to bet that I would have to move on. I didn't want to, but Ziva and the Director were out of control. All of the agents were potentially in danger with things the way they were now. We had to stop them. This was just…it was bigger than me. It was more important.

I woke up to voices. Quiet ones. Downstairs. I moved to push myself up in bed but pain ripped through my wrist and ankle when I moved. I hissed in pain. I finally managed to sit up and I took a rest, panting through the pain that was coursing through my body. Holy crap I gotta stop falling down stairs. I heard people on the stairs then, two sets of footsteps, one moving faster than the other.

"Tony?" I heard Gibbs' voice calling for me.

"Yeah?" I called back softly.

Gibbs appeared in the doorway. "You ok?"

"I'm alright," I said quietly. "Um…is someone else here?"

Davenport stepped around the corner then. "At ease DiNozzo," he said quietly.

"How do you always know when I'm awake Gibbs?" I asked.

Gibbs smirked. "You're noisy," he said simply.

"DiNozzo we need to talk," Davenport said. "Do you want to talk here or elsewhere?"

"Ducky said he needs to stay in bed. He fell down the stairs…busted himself all to hell."

Davenport moved into the bedroom and took a seat on the bed. I looked up at Gibbs, alarm on my face. Did he know about our relationship?

"There's been lots of talk around the water cooler," Davenport said coolly. He looked at me. "What the hell happened? I want an explanation!"

Oh shit. "Where would you like me to begin?" I asked softly.

"At the beginning of course! Where else would you start? Get talking boy!"

"I joined NCIS after I worked a joint case in Baltimore with Agent Gibbs. He offered me a job and I moved to DC—"

"Woah Tony," Gibbs told me softly and my mouth finally stopped yappin. God what a mess this was turning into. Gibbs looked at the SECNAV. "I don't think getting Tony's job history is what needs to happen here. We're supposed to talk about what's going on with the Director and with Ziva."

Davenport nodded. "I guess I thought that's where DiNozzo would begin." He looked at me. "I'm waiting."

I felt like I was about to get into trouble. I knew I'd screwed up. "I guess it all started…sir…when Ziva—Agent David—and I got stuck in a storage container. We were there all day long. And…while we were in the container…" I took a deep breath and felt sick.

"Yes? Go on!"

"And while we were in the container…I was given some…information."

"What information were you given?"

I sighed and glanced at Gibbs. "She told me that she was working as a double agent. That she's posing as a NCIS agent, but working primarily for…" I paused, thinking. "She never said who she's working for….but she said that her first priority was to eliminate the MCRT."

"Uh huh," Davenport said, "And when did this take place?"

I closed my eyes and dropped my face towards my lap. "Six months ago. Sir," I said softly.

"And why am I just now hearing about this?"

Here it comes. I took a shaky breath. "Because I just remembered that it happened," I said, nearly whispering.

The SECNAV blinked. "You just…WHAT IN THE FUCKING SHIT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?! WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM!"

I flinched, and looked at Gibbs, wanting guidance, protection, something—anything. And to my relief, Gibbs stepped forward. "Chuck," he said softly. He had a funny look on his face—an expression I'd not ever seen before. He didn't speak again until Davenport looked at him. "Chuck…Tony's like Shannon."

Let me just tell you. Whatever it was I was expecting Gibbs to do or say just then—that wasn't it. I stared at him, dumbfounded. So did the SECNAV.

"Jethro?" Davenport spoke softly. "Are you sure?"

"He's an Opsequensotype. He moved to DC after the chief of police in Baltimore sent him to jump off the Key Bridge. He…he's my partner Charles. In more ways than one. And he's just like Shannon."

Davenport ran a hand over his mouth and took a deep breath. I stared at Gibbs, still shocked. Shannon was like me? She had to follow orders too? Suddenly there were so many things about our relationship that made sense. It explained why Gibbs took all of this so personally, why he knew so much about it…It all clicked together with that one final piece of information.

"Gibbs?" I didn't like the way my voice trembled. I told myself it was nerves, not anything else.

Gibbs turned to me. "I'm sorry Tony. I didn't want to out you…to out us…not like this…but I needed him to understand why things went down the way they did. I…I hope you can understand."

Davenport turned to me, his entire demeanor different. "Agent DiNozzo…please forgive my behavior earlier. I wasn't aware of…"

I hated it when people talked to me like that. Like there was something wrong with me or something. "It's alright Sir," I deflected. "I um…"

"I behaved badly," Davenport said. "I get a bit…overzealous sometimes. However. This is vital information. Anything you could tell us would be helpful. Can you explain why it took so long for you to tell Gibbs or me about what Agent David told you?"

I nodded. "Sure," I said softly. "Ziva ordered me to forget what we talked about. That day…that day was so horrible," my voice dropped to a whisper.

"What do you remember specifically?"

"Now that Gibbs has told me to remember it? I remember lots of things about it now. How she kept telling me to relax and not worry. Kept telling me not to feel alarmed by what she was doing or saying. Kept telling me that I should just agree with anything she says…"

"That makes more sense," Gibbs muttered.

I blinked and looked at him. "What does?"

"That night…when we got you out of the storage container. I asked you about your arm. Ziva jumped in and told me it was just a scratch. You agreed with her. You knew you'd been shot didn't you?"

I pursed my lips together, let out a long breath and nodded.

"And you couldn't say anything…" Gibbs had that look on his face like he was going to start kicking himself for something.

I reached out with my good hand and grabbed his wrist gently. "It's not your fault," I reassured him. "You had no reason to think tha—"

"I had no reason to trust her either," Gibbs snapped.

Davenport turned back to me. "Have there been any other incidences of this nature?" he asked.

I thought hard about it, but really couldn't think of anything. "I don't think so Sir," I said softly.

"I have another question," the SECNAV said. "I recall hearing, several months ago, about the head of my MCRT being given a written warning." I stared at him. "What can you tell me about that?"

"I was written up by Director Sheppard for Gross Insubordination and Conduct Unbecoming of an Agent," I said quietly.

At this, Davenport's eyes narrowed and his face darkened. "How about you tell me the truth this time," he said, and I could hear the threat in his tone.

I flinched at the order—I HAD TOLD HIM THE TRUTH! At least…I'd told him the truth as it was revealed to me? "I don't understand," I stammered uncertainly. "I…"

Gibbs stepped between us. "Isn't it obvious to you that he's had his memories tampered with?" he snapped at Davenport. "He's trying Chuck, but you gotta cut him a little slack. I've never known Tony to be dishonest—orders or not."

I blinked. God this was such a mess! Davenport pulled a folded piece of paper out of his breast pocket and opened it.

"This report here says that while conducting a murder investigation, you thought it'd be funny to interview all of the witnesses and related parties by, and I quote, 'barking like a dog.' End quote." I was horrified. My eyes widened and my jaw dropped—Why didn't I remember any of that?! I looked frantically at Gibbs.

Gibbs, though, remained patient and calm. "Do you remember that Tony?" I shook my head wildly. "Ok, ok calm down," he said and I saw him mentally kick himself, even as the wave of relaxation washed over me. Christ I was tired. "Woah, stay with me—don't go to sleep yet ok?" I immediately felt myself perk back up a bit.

Gibbs turned back to the SECNAV. "Can't you see he's been badly manipulated? He's being abused—he should be safe in his own office!"

"Sir," I whispered, my voice trembling horribly. I couldn't raise my gaze—I was too mortified by everything I'd done and not done—and didn't know if I'd done or not… "Mr. Secretary sir…I'd like to apologize. I…I'm a liability," my voice wobbled more. "I'll understand if you want to let me go," I whispered.

"I don't want you to resign Agent DiNozzo, and I am not going to fire you," Davenport said kindly. "I just worry…what else have they done to you that you don't remember?"

"Director Sheppard ordered me to forget about Gibbs," I blurted. "She wanted me to go undercover…wanted me to pursue a relationship with my mark—with the daughter of an arm's dealer! I…I tried to resist. I told her no…and when she ordered me to forget about Gibbs I fled to Mexico—I had to get him to help me make sure I didn't forget. I…Gibbs was the only one who could help me. I knew if I forgot about Gibbs that I'd never get away from Je—Director Sheppard's control. It was too absolute—and there was no one here disputing it."

I was nearly at my breaking point. I could only hope they'd believe me. I was being honest—surely Gibbs and Davenport both knew that I'd not lie about all of this stuff?

Davenport seemed to sense my unease, but also seemed to be clueless about how to help me. He looked at Gibbs, who was frowning. I watched the silent conversation between them both for a long moment, wondering what they were thinking and if it would somehow end up hurting me in the long run.

"Tony," Gibbs finally said softly.

Here it comes. Here it comes. Here it comes…

"I…I don't know…I'm not even sure how to go about this, but…we need to figure out everything that they've done—the things they've done to you and the things they've told you not to remember. I know you've already told me a lot of it…" I nodded. As far as I knew, I'd told him everything. But now I was beginning to wonder—how many layers was all of this packed under?

"Can you help me?" I whispered softly. I looked up at Gibbs. "Even…even if it costs me my job. They need to be stopped. I…It's bigger than me. They're dangerous Gibbs," I said desperately. "They're doing this to people who are allies—"

"No Tony," Gibbs said softly, and Davenport pig-tailed right on the back of his words— "We aren't their allies if they are doing these things to us, son," he said kindly.

I put my head in my hand. "It's all so confusing," I moaned.

Gibbs knelt in front of me and put his hands on my shoulders, mindful of my injuries. "Will you let us help you?" he asked.

There was that question again. Did I trust Gibbs? I looked at him—my boss, my _partner._

"Yes," I said softly, nodding firmly. "Yes I will. I trust you."

xxx

The whole thing…the whole…MESS…of this…_interrogation_…it took over a week. Gibbs and Davenport took me to the Pentagon for questioning. They got former NCIS Director, Tom Morrow in on the…investigation…

God it was all such a fucking mess.

I sat in the interrogation room, under careful monitoring, for nearly a week.

But through it all—much to my surprise—through it all, the only person I had to interact with was Gibbs. Gibbs was my go-between. He did all the talking to all the big higher up guys. They went case by case, journal entry by journal entry, file by file, moment by moment through the last two months…they didn't leave any question un-asked, no statement unexplored, nothing. They checked and double checked everything. Gibbs was wonderful though. He was patient, careful, and almost…almost gentle with me. He didn't get frustrated if I didn't know an answer. He didn't get upset if he had to help me remember something. And he didn't let the others near me—so if they were frustrated that I didn't know an answer or if they were upset that I needed help remembering…well I didn't have to see any of that.

And slowly, steadily, little by little…the truth came out. All of it. The embezzling. The fraud. The overextension of power by the Director. Several deaths that were the result of bad dealings with the Director, people she decided needed silencing, people she found annoying, anybody who didn't fit into her mold…

Finally Gibbs came back into the room. He leaned against the door to the room and he let out a long breath.

"Is it over?" I whispered. I wasn't sure I wanted to know the answer. I didn't know if I could answer anymore questions.

Gibbs swallowed hard. "Ah God Tony," he said softly. He looked at me with such conviction, such remorse…it made me feel sick. "I wish it was over babe," he said softly. "But now…this…Tony I've got one more round of questions to ask you."

I stared at him. I didn't like the sound of that.

Three days. It took Gibbs three days to finished the last round of questions. He wanted to know all about all of the abuse that I had endured at the hands of Madame Director. Initially I tried to resist. I didn't want to relive that again. I didn't feel it necessary to report all of the shit that had taken place at my expense. I wasn't in this to seek revenge for what happened to me.

And finally, exhausted, weary, hungry…Gibbs looked at me. He looked as bad as I felt. "One more question," he said quietly.

I narrowed my eyes at him. I was so tired. I didn't want to think anymore.

"What." My voice was flat, unemotional, tired.

Gibbs offered me a small half smile. "Pizza or Chinese?"

xxx

My arm was fresh out of the sling from where I dislocated my shoulder and still a bit stiff, so Gibbs helped me into my jacket. Dinner was supposed to meet us at home and I couldn't wait to fall into bed and stay there for…as long as possible. Christ I was tired.

"Hey Gibbs," I said softly.

"Yeah Tony?"

"My turn to ask a question," I said with a smirk.

Gibbs smirked in return. "Shoot."

"Can we go home now?"

Gibbs laughed and nodded. "Sure Tony," he said, still chuckling.

Together we headed out of the interrogation room. I hadn't been interrogated—not in the traditional sense of the word. There were no threats made, no anger, no hostility. They'd all been as great as they could be—they'd been very nice, very respectful, very supportive…and they'd made sure that Gibbs was the only one I had to deal with. I knew I had only been questioned, but the situation had required that every word I spoke be recorded, every bit of information I gave had to be carefully documented. And now it was over. I felt like a thrice rung rag. I just wanted to sleep. Gibbs gently guided me down the hall towards the elevator. We passed the observation room and the door opened.

I startled badly.

"At ease DiNozzo," Davenport said gently. I felt myself relax and actually wobbled in relief.

"Easy Tony," Gibbs said, his hand still on my elbow.

"Agent DiNozzo," Morrow stepped around Davenport. "I think the Secretary and I can both agree that you have done a fine job in…difficult circumstances," he held out his hand and I stared at it for a moment before shaking it. "Well done Tony."

"Thank you sir," I said quietly.

Davenport stuck out his hand. "Go home and get some rest," Davenport said with a smile. Before I could stop myself, my body started moving. "Oh! Oh sorry! Stop Tony!" Davenport caught himself and I screeched to a halt. "Jesus there I go again," Davenport said sheepishly. He looked at Gibbs. "Help?" he asked weakly.

Gibbs smiled. "We're heading home Chuck," he said. Gibbs smiled at me then. "Ready to go?"

I nodded gratefully and together we headed out of the Pentagon.

xxx

Someone was shaking my shoulder. Seriously? I just wanted to sleep. Why couldn't I be left in peace? I'd been allowed back to the hotel room every evening so I could sleep, but despite the nightly rest, I was still exhausted. And now…ahhh…now the questioning was finished. Now I thought I could rest. But someone was waking me up.

"Tony?"

I groaned. Dammit. "Gibbs?"

"Wanna go inside? Don't need to sleep in the car," Gibbs said.

I blinked sleepily. I smelled pizza. Slowly I pushed myself up out of the car and started to follow Gibbs inside. We were almost to the front steps at Gibbs' house when I heard the sound of screeching tires. I glanced around frantically, my tired brain struggling to process where the sound was coming from.

"GIBBS!" I screamed. I dove for him and tackled him as the gunfire erupted behind me.

Gibbs was scrambling, there were bullets buzzing over my head, and somewhere in the background I could still hear the car's engine rumbling.

"Tony! Tony are you ok?"

"Gibbs!"

I heard more gunfire, right over my head. Since I was out on leave, I didn't have my weapon. I didn't have my weapon. Holy shit I didn't have my gun! "Gibbs! Gibbs give me your backup weapon!" I yelled.

Before Gibbs could give me his gun, the car sped away and the gunfire stopped. I heard Gibbs curse and then his hands were all over me, patting me down. "Are you ok?! Are you hurt?! Did they get you? Tony?"

I rolled over and looked at him. "I'm ok! I'm OK! Who the hell was that?! What the fuck?!"

Gibbs sat back on his heels for a moment. "We need to get back in the car," he said. "We aren't staying here."

Slowly we rose to our feet, and I was a bit shocked to notice that I was trembling from head to toe. "C'mon," Gibbs said. "It's alright."

"Gibbs…Gibbs I didn't have my gun. I don't have my gun Gibbs. I need my gun. I want my gun back. Gibbs where's my gun?"

We all but dove into the car and Gibbs pulled out with a squeal of tires. I glanced back at the house…our house…it was a mess. The front of it was completely shot out…our poor house.

Gibbs was on the phone. "…We aren't safe here," he was saying. "We were nearly gunned down walking in the front door. We got back in the car and drove away. We aren't staying here another minute—it's not safe here! We're in the car now. Heading away from the direction the car with the shooter was in…Yes I know it would be wise to pursue it, but Tony doesn't have his duty weapon and he's…" he glanced at me. "I'm not sure he's up for a gun battle this afternoon…he's been put through the wringer."

Gibbs was quiet for a moment then, listening to whoever it was he'd called on the phone. "Uh huh…right…right…ok…yeah. Alright. We'll do that. OK we'll head there now." He snapped the phone shut.

"Where are we going?" I asked tiredly.

Gibbs' mouth was set in a firm line. He looked so pissed and I couldn't help but wonder if it was my fault. Hadn't I brought all of this on myself?

"Gibbs?" I repeated.

"We're going somewhere safe Tony," Gibbs said softly. We drove silently for a few minutes. I was trying not to be upset, but I really wished Gibbs would tell me what the hell is going on. Finally he pulled into a rental car agency. We walked inside together, Gibbs gave the man a false name, signed his name, and was passed a set of keys. Apparently this had been set up in the last ten minutes or so. We walked to our very boring, very innocuous, very…beige…rental car…and then Gibbs walked right past it, instead, getting into a shiny red convertible. "Hop in," he said.

"A convertible? With everything that's going on you want to be in a convertible?"

"Best way to hide is to stay in plain sight," Gibbs said with a shrug. He opened the glove box and pulled out a pair of sunglasses. Then he passed a pair to me. We settled in the car and I turned to stare at him for a long moment.

"Can we sleep now?" I finally asked.

Gibbs reached over and grabbed my hand. "Go ahead," he said softly. "I will keep us safe. You get some sleep. You can even lay down and use my leg for a pillow if you want."

I heard the engine crank with a low, rumbling purr as I reclined across the seats. Gibbs' fingers traced lightly over my hair once, before his other hand went to the gearshift and he put the car in first. "Let's roll," Gibbs said.

I was asleep before we were out of the parking lot.

TBC…


	12. Disaster Strikes

**Warning: Intensity ahead! Boatloads of violence. I'll try to go easy on the ick-factor, but I make no promises. Dark squickiness ahead. Be warned! It is graphic! INTENSITY—GRAPHIC—NOT INTENDED FOR YOUNG OR QUEASY READERS!**

**Special Thanks **to my wonderful beta Gotgoats. You're a great coach and you totally keep me in line! Thanks for helping me! Love you!

_Minor reference to the idea in Episode 10.21 Berlin_

**Compelled  
****Chapter 12: Disaster Strikes****  
**

I woke to the sound of squealing tires. When I'd dozed off, we'd been in the fancy red convertible, running like hell to get away from the people—who were they?—who were shooting at our house. I slowly pushed myself up and checked that my seatbelt was secure. We were still in the fancy red convertible, but the situation seemed vastly different.

"TONY!" I heard Gibbs yell. I glanced over just in time to see a car coming up on us—the same SUV that had driven past our house. My eyes widened when I saw that they were aiming straight at our car—straight at me!—and then everything went black.

xxx

Awareness crept back in slowly and I raised a hand to my head. Christ I felt like I'd been in a car wreck. Wait. Car wreck. I WAS IN A CAR WRECK! I forced my eyes open and tried to move, but everything hurt. I rolled my head to the side and saw Gibbs. His forehead had a big cut on it and he wasn't moving. His hand was on mine though. I moved for the seatbelt latch, but it was jammed and wouldn't open.

"Gibbs," I whispered, struggling harder to get free. "Gibbs wake up…we gotta get outta here…Gibbs…c'mon…fuckin' seat belt…" I jerked harder on the belt.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw movement in the other car. Was it wrong that I'd hoped the other driver would be dead? I didn't know if Gibbs was dead and my vision was too blurry to tell if he was breathing. I must have hit my head on…something…I didn't know what. The driver door on the SUV swung open and two slender feet hit the ground. The driver was wearing some kind of heavy leather jacket, gloves, and a helmet. It was obvious that the driver didn't want his or her—it was looking more like HER—identity disclosed, nor did she want to injure herself in the car accident.

I tugged harder on the seatbelt, and gasped when a knife appeared in front of my face. The driver flipped her helmet's visor opened and two dark, hate-filled eyes stared at me, glinting like gunmetal. "Rule number nine," Ziva said softly, menacingly. "Never go anywhere without a knife." With a flick of her wrist the seatbelt fell away in limp strands of fabric. I struggled to move away, to get as far away from the double agent.

I heard the whistle of a silenced gun at the same moment my shoulder exploded in pain and I cried out. Here it was—broad daylight—in the middle of Washington DC—and we'd been t-boned in a mostly quiet neighborhood, and no one—not one person—had stopped to check on us, call an ambulance, call the police—nothing. No help. None. And I'd just been shot.

I knew then and there that if I could get out of this alive, and if I could get away from Ziva with all of my limbs intact that it'd be a miracle.

"No talking," Ziva snapped.

I fought it. Dammit I fought it like hell, but I could not get a sound out of my mouth.

"Get out of the car," she said and my body sprang into motion. She reached out and flicked her wrist at my belt, frightening me momentarily because I didn't know what she was doing. My belt was severed and she ripped it from my waist.

I wondered how she was going to take me away since her car was in as bad a shape as the one we were riding in. Out of the corner of my eye I saw another car approaching. I raised a hand to my wounded shoulder. Christ it hurt. I glanced back at Gibbs. He still hadn't moved.

"He's dead Tony. You killed him. It's your fault," Ziva's words burned like venom in my brain.

I shook my head, fighting the orders. "No…no that's not right…"

"Shut up! I said no talking! It IS true. You will believe everything I tell you."

That familiar feeling of dread washed over me. God what a mess. I glanced back at Gibbs. It seemed so wrong that I killed him and was just going to…leave him there…I had to help him. I had to tend to him—it was the least I could do. I slowly turned back to Gibbs.

The whistle of the silencer rang in my ears just as my left knee suddenly gave out with a horrible knifing pain running through it. She shot me in the back of the knee! I screamed in pain and fell to the ground. I still needed to get to Gibbs. I grabbed at my bum knee with my good arm—she shot the opposite knee to my shoulder. Christ it hurt. I was dying. I'd die from this. I just knew it.

Ziva backhanded me and sent me sprawling. "No more noise from you, My Little Hairy Butt," she said. My mouth shut with an audible click and I stared at her venomously. She threw back her head and laughed. "Come on now. It is time for us to go."

I shook my head no, determined not to go.

A voice from behind me though, brought my panic full-fledged to the surface. "Awww now Ziva, don't be mean to him. That's my job. After all," the familiar voice of my ex-boyfriend Robby said, "He's my bitch."

A wet rag, fragrant with something that made my head swim was slapped over my mouth then. I groaned and struggled, but it was all in vain. It wasn't long before my senses left me and everything went dark.

xxx

The first thing that registered in my brain was how bad I hurt. My shoulder hurt, my arm was numb, my knee was in excruciating pain and it felt like someone had stomped on my head. My ribs were apparently bruised and it hurt to breathe…I was not in good shape. The second thing that registered was how cold I was—I was freezing! I was also soaking wet, which didn't make any sense. The third thing that registered was the smell. It smelled like piss and vinegar…and mold…and decay…it smelled like animals…and then I heard the tell-tale squeak and I froze. I knew what it was. That was the smell of rodent urine. And that squeak was the sound of rats. Several of them. In the same room as me. There were rats in here with me—that meant they could get to me! I HATED RATS!

My arms had been cinched behind me, despite the fact that Ziva had shot me in the shoulder. My legs were also bent painfully up under the seat of the chair—despite the gunshot to my knee—and my ankles were cinched to the bar on the chair. I wiggled a bit, but groaned and quickly stopped, trying to regroup. Christ it hurt. I had to get out of here.

And it'd be up to me to do it. Gibbs was gone. I was alone—on my own to deal with rogue agents and ex-boyfriends.

Speaking of ex-boyfriends. Robby. How had he gotten involved?

I blinked my eyes open slowly and let them take a minute to focus. God my head hurt. I let my head roll slowly from one side to the other and took in my surroundings. The room I was in was small. I glanced down at myself. I really was soaking wet—part of it looked like blood stains, but more than that it looked like water. They'd thrown water on me. I shivered, chilly from being so damp. I looked around the room. There were no windows, so I had no way to know if it was night or day. There was no clock. I knew this was to make me feel disoriented (it worked). I took a deep breath—well, as deep as one can take around duct tape covering my mouth—and tried to relax.

My arms were tied with some sort of thin rope that felt like it was slightly frayed—to maximize rope burn as I struggled. It felt like my ankles were bound with the same stuff. For a moment I sucked in a shuddery breath and felt my eyes sting. How was I going to get out of this? I needed Gibbs—needed him like I needed air! My heart ached for him—I loved him so much and to think that he was really gone—and to think that it was my fault…I just wanted my heart to stop beating. I didn't want to do this anymore. I didn't want to fight. I wanted Gibbs.

Two tears dripped from my eyes and I bowed my head low.

There was a noise then, coming from outside the room. It sounded like footsteps. The door creaked open and Ziva and Robby stepped inside. Each of them wore an evil smile…I knew this wouldn't end well for me.

"What…what d'you want?" I slurred softly.

"Shut up," Robby backhanded me and I quit talking. "I don't want to hear a word out of you. Same rules apply as before. You don't look at me, you don't speak to me, you don't try to escape, and you don't worry about anything going on outside of this room. Everything else disappears."

I felt the wave wash over me and my brain fogged over with submission to Robby's orders. I nodded my head and bowed it low.

Robby walked around behind me and I gasped when I felt his fingers near my face. A moment later a piece of black fabric slipped over my eyes and the world was encased in blackness again. I felt his lips near my ear, his breath hot on my neck.

"One other thing," he said conversationally. I nearly shivered at how casually he spoke. He sounded as if he were talking about the weather. "You can forget about trying to get away. You can also forget anything that happens here. You're never going to get away. And you're not even going to care." He brushed his fingers through my hair as though we were lovers. I leaned into it—craving any comfort I could get from any source. He leaned in and kissed me softly before biting my lip painfully. I tasted blood when he pulled away.

"You're such a slut," he sneered. I shrank back, ashamed.

A moment later the door closed and I was alone.

xxx

_An undetermined amount of time later…_

Something is wrong. I can barely think. I blinked my eyes weakly, trying to get them to focus. I think I must be sick. My skin felt all ginchy like it gets when I have a fever. I let my head roll back on my shoulders. God everything hurt. The room spun around me and I swallowed hard, hoping to not throw up. I vaguely realized that I was no longer blindfolded. My arms were still restrained behind me. I tried to move my hands but the pain in them was excruciating. What the hell was wrong with my hands?

There was something over my mouth—I couldn't speak—I immediately felt like I couldn't breathe and I gasped. I was snotty and congested. I felt like I needed to cough, but I didn't see how I could—I couldn't get enough air. There was something on the air though—I could smell it even though I was congested. It smelled like…like burning skin. Was someone being burned?

I wanted to remember what all had happened to me. The people…the ones who had brought me here…who were they again? They'd…done things to me…but I couldn't remember what. I couldn't remember why. I didn't know where I was. I didn't know what had happened. But I was supposed to be here. This was where I needed to be. Because I was a worthless piece of shit and this is where worthless pieces of shit needed to be. I wasn't even fit to be called a person. I was a worthless piece of shit. That's all I was. It's all someone like me could be.

After some time of staring at the single bulb dangling from the ceiling, I tore my gaze away and blinked weakly in the dim lighting. There were two women sitting at a table on the other side of the room. They had a suitcase between them on the table and it was full of money. They were giggling like school girls and counting the bills together. I glanced around the rest of the room I could see and was surprised to see a man on the floor in the corner. There was a gunshot wound in his chest. It was obvious to me that he was dead.

I blinked weakly again and stared at the man. I knew that man. Who was he? He looked so familiar…Robby. His name was Robby. He was one of the ones who brought me here. But it looked like he'd been shot. Who shot him? What happened? How had I missed it? Did I sleep through it? Did someone tell me not to remember it?

I looked at the two women at the table and squinted, trying to get my eyes to focus. I needed to figure out who these women were. One of them had flaming red hair and huge eyes. The Director. Jenny. I swallowed hard around my gag. I was in big trouble. The other women turned her head a bit and I could see that it was Ziva. Dear God. Did they kill Robby?

"Mmmpf," I mumbled around the gag in my mouth.

Ziva's eyes shot up. "Shut up asshole," she snapped. I blinked heavily and took a deep breath through my nose. God what was that smell? I looked around again and then shifted slightly in my chair. The pain escalated about a million times and I groaned again. I couldn't help it. It hurt. Everything hurt.

And then…I looked down at my legs. Jesus. I stared in horror at my leg and felt my breath quicken though I couldn't do anything to stop it. My leg looked…very, very sick. I needed a doctor. I looked up at Ziva and Jenny and stared pleadingly at them.

"Awwww," Jenny cooed. "Does it hurt? It sure does stink," she commented, waving a hand in front of her face. "But maybe it's not you. Maybe that's your fuck-buddy over here," she indicated Robby's body in the corner.

I didn't know whether to stare at my leg—what the hell was wrong with my leg?!—or if I should watch Jenny and Ziva or if I needed to watch Robby. Part of me was afraid he might…I dunno…get up or something…

"You know Tony," Jenny said, smiling sweetly. "It was really nice of your father to give us all of this money in exchange for taking care of you," she said.

I gasped again and felt my eyes sting. This was all wrong. My father? Robby? The Director and Ziva? How…how had this all happened?

Jenny stood up and walked over to where I was sitting, still restrained in the chair. She straddled my legs and sat down on my lap. Her added weight to my already injured leg was even more excruciating and I groaned and shook my head, desperately trying to tell her to get off of me. God it hurt. "I wanted you for myself," Jenny said softly, tracing a finger over my chest. "When I found out…what you are…well I thought that you'd make a perfectly lovely little slave for me to have at my beck and call. Unfortunately it seems that you had other ideas."

I closed my eyes and tried to look away, but she grabbed my face and turned my gaze back to her. "Look at me," she snapped, and I couldn't look anywhere else. "Maybe I will keep you," she said thoughtfully. I wished I could die. I wanted to die.

But…somewhere, in the back of my head, I heard a little voice whisper, '_You will not die._'

Memories rolled through my mind's eye like fog cresting on a hillside. I thought of Gibbs, of how protective he was. He took such good care and made so much effort to keep me safe. He worked so hard to let me trust him. He died…trying to keep me safe. Gibbs died. He was gone.

I was alone.

That thought drove me into the darkness again and I let the pain sweep me away.

xxx

Noises drew me back to awareness. Shouting. Screams. Gunshots. I forced my eyes open, but the scene in front of me made no sense. There were a lot of people in the room now…I saw my father, he was sprawled on the ground near Robby…Jenny was screaming, Ziva was crawling on the floor towards…something…she crawled past me.

Suddenly though, the noises stopped. I wondered if my hearing had just given out. I blinked heavily and forced my eyes back open, hoping to gain some clarity on what was going on. There were two people still standing. My head rolled forward and I groaned softly. Everything hurt.

"Tony? Tony! Ah…ah God…T-Tobias…get a bus…GET A BUS!"

That voice was familiar. Who was it?

One of the two figures still-standing moved and I could see his feet on the floor in front of me. Simple black work boots…a memory drifted through my mind: those were the same boots Jethro wore…

Jethro. God I missed him. I wondered if, when I finally died, I'd get to be with him.

"Tony? Babe can you hear me? Tony?"

There were hands touching me gently, but everything was excruciating. I flinched hard and tried unsuccessfully to move away. The hands were exceedingly gentle though—gentler than anyone I'd been touched by in recent memory—and I wondered who it was. I blinked heavily and tried to get my eyes to focus on the figure in front of me. I must have been dreaming though, because the person in front of me…the person touching me so gently, and speaking to me so urgently…it was Gibbs?

Fingers pulled at something sticking to my face and I realized that there was tape covering my mouth. Once the tape was gone I took a deep heaving breath and coughed hard. I coughed and coughed—where had this come from? The figure moved out from in front of me and I wondered if they were going to leave me. I felt something cool and metallic near my hands and I flinched again—immediately causing a stinging pain to surge up my left arm.

"Shit sorry," the voice said. "I'm so sorry. Just hang on. I didn't know you were going to move—I think I nicked you with my knife. Hold still Tony, just sit tight, I've got you. You're safe now. We're going to get you out of here."

Suddenly the restraints holding my arms was gone and I felt myself falling. The other figure lurched forward and kept me from hitting the floor. Then the first person took his place and let me lean on him. I breathed in slowly, trying to stay calm, and was assaulted by a familiar smell. I knew this person. I smelled again, breathing in hard, trying to get the smell in my nose through the congestion.

"Guh," I mumbled, trying to form words and failing.

"Talk to me Tony," the voice ordered gently and I groaned under the weight of yet another order—a conflicting order. After a moment's pause, the voice spoke again. "You're released from your orders, Babe. Talk to me Tony. It's Gibbs. Talk to me and let me know you can hear me. You with me?"

At the voice's words I forced myself back a bit. The pain was so bad I thought I'd die, and I blinked my eyes weakly and finally got my vision to almost clear. My heart leapt for joy even as my stomach flipped and I thought I might throw up. I gagged. Was Gibbs really alive? Or was I cracking up completely? He was dead though…Ziva said…

Realization washed over me and this time I did throw up. I gagged and heaved and eventually blacked out. And through it all was the familiar steadiness that always made me feel so safe.

Gibbs.

Gibbs had my six.

TBC…


End file.
